


(what's been) weighing me down

by typhonic



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, DOUBLE TROUBLE STEALS MUSTARD PACKETS, Eating Disorders, F/F, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Lesbian Adora (She-Ra), Softball, TW ED mentions, adora basically works at chuck e cheese, and you can't stop them, bow is a Good Good Friend, catra is latina and gay cause im latina and gay and i said so, homophobia mentions later, like a lot, literal projection fic, the universe is a dick, they live on earth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2020-02-27 13:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18740440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typhonic/pseuds/typhonic
Summary: catra doesn't know how to eat and adora doesn't know that existing isn't really the same thing as living. but that doesn't matter, because they're seventeen, and in love, and they can't see the real world outside of each other's touches and laughter and bright, pretty smiles.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> u know what they say binches
> 
> the firstest chapter is the worstest chapter.
> 
> (dont give up on me, person reading this, i stg i have better cOntEnT coming uR wAy)

 

 

_122 + 13 + 200 + 31 =_ _366 calories_

 

Catra hums softly as she scrawls out another calculation in the same red notebook she's had since freshman year, trying to squeeze the small bit of writing into the only remaining blank corner of an overflowing page. Absentmindedly chewing on the end of her dull pencil, she tries to think through the events of her day for the sixth time since sitting down. She precisely remembers everything she ate - one packet of instant oatmeal, three strawberries, one chicken sandwich (with all the bread and condiments carefully removed), a Diet Coke, and one half of the peanut butter cookie that Adora offered her at lunch (she couldn't turn it down without seeming unusually suspicious). Everything is accounted for - eaten, recorded, logged, and added together. Catra tries earnestly to reassure herself of this, but she still can't shake the nagging feeling deep in the pit of her stomach that she's missing something.

She groans in frustration, grabbing the worn-out notebook roughly and hurling it at the nearest wall with the same force that she dedicates to her best fastballs on the practice field behind the school. It hits with a thud, knocking one of Catra's paintings askew, and falls to the ground, managing to land directly on top of an improperly closed bottle of Powerade Zero and soak the carpet in bright blue. She interprets this as a supernatural omen that approximately translates to  _"whatever, fuck this shit,"_ and flings herself across her bed with a prolonged sigh of surrender.

It's at this moment, lying there with her face stuffed halfway into a pillow and kicking halfheartedly at the bedposts out of spite, that she realizes her mistake. The feeling of wrongness and discrepancy floods out of her body like steaming tea melts away a sugar cube as soon as it's placed in the cup, and it leaves Catra's every muscle shaking from the sweet relief of tension as a memory from earlier that day suddenly resurfaces in her mind.

_Her. Adora. In the front seat of Catra's parents' horrible red minivan that she drives to school every day, despite the inevitable stares and humiliation. It's 8:30 a.m., and they're both barely awake, drunk on laughter over one of Catra's sly comments about what exactly the calculus teacher had been up to with the librarian yesterday when they'd both been missing from the school-wide assembly. Adora sighs and leans back in her seat, wiping tears of mirth from her sun-kissed face, and reaches over Catra for her cup of coffee that's sitting in the drink holder beside her. She pulls a peppermint stick from the side of her backpack and starts to stir the hot liquid, letting the candy melt and carry its sweet scent into the air around her._

_Catra watches her with mild amusement._

_"How come you always drink it like that?"_

_The question catches Adora a bit off guard, but in an instant she's smiling again, staring at Catra with an odd glint in her pale blue eyes._

_"I guess.. I just like it this way? Peppermint has been my favorite since before I could walk, you know." She pauses. "It reminds me of nice things. Like summertime, or watching a sunset, or...or a kiss." Her smile brightens even more, and she holds out the cup in Catra's direction. "Here, try it. You'll see."_

_She's barely taken a sip before she feels a soft hand through her hair, and suddenly Adora is kissing her and Catra is smiling into her lips and everything is a mess of arms and legs and hands and shoulders, and the sun is streaming through the windows, giving all of it a golden glow, and the coffee is forgotten._

Until now.

She retrieves the book, which is presently dripping more blue drops onto her clean bedsheets, and carefully records the sip of Adora's drink, estimating a tablespoon because she just doesn't have the energy to get it exactly right today. She's tired, and she'll worry about it later.

_122 + 13 + 200 + 31 **\+ 25** =  **391**_ _calories_

Catra can breathe now.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao thanks for reading my shitty vent fic guys, here's another disappointingly short chapter

Adora grips her old wooden bat so hard that her knuckles turn white, and she bites her lip in concentration, eyes fixed firmly on the pitching mound. The glaring sun makes it hard to see Catra's face, but it doesn't matter, because Adora  _knows_ that it's painted with her signature smirk as she rolls the ball around in her hand, waiting for the coach's signal to begin the last inning. 

She takes a deep breath to rid her mind of any distractions and assumes a batting stance, adjusting her hold on the bat as she hears the sharp blow of a whistle. Her teammates on the bleachers shout vaguely encouraging statements in her general direction, and Glimmer even shoots her a grin and a thumbs-up from left field. She shuts them out, focusing all her energy and attention on watching Catra's hands.

The field goes silent.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Nothing.

Adora falters.

The pitch comes from what seems like nowhere, slicing cleanly through the air and smacking straight into Bow's glove behind her with a sound reminiscent of a sandbag dropping to the ground from a three-story building. Catra's team erupts with cheers, piling onto Adora's building frustration, and she narrows her eyes, cupping her hands to her mouth so she can shout at her girlfriend from underneath her lopsided helmet. 

"Hey, Catra!"

She whirls around to face her, surprised, and Adora snatches the opportunity.

"You throw like my baby cousins! And all they throw are tantrums." 

Catra clutches her hands to her chest in a show of horrified outrage, and then takes a dramatic, stumbling step backwards as if she's just been stabbed in the heart. Then she straightens up, gives Adora a smug smile, and pounds her fist into her glove a couple times for maximum intimidation.

The coach calls for positions again, and Adora can see him holding up an index finger to indicate  _one strike_. 

This time, though, Catra doesn't waste a second. No sooner has the whistle sounded than the ball is flying out of her hands and Adora is tracking it with her eyes, and she throws every ounce of her strength into a wild, powerful swing, and the ear-splitting  _crack_  is like the cacophony of a thousand boards breaking and it's the most beautiful sound Adora has ever heard aside from the time Catra whispered in her ear that she loved her and her stupid ponytail and her ugly collection of 25-cent candy-machine jewelry. 

She drops the bat and breaks out running like her life depends on it.

* * *

After the scrimmage, Adora races to catch up with Catra as she walks off the field. She's wiping the sweat from her face with the end of her red t-shirt and looking simultaneously proud and exhausted - her team had won in the end, despite Adora's best efforts and creative trash talk.

Adora snags her by the shoulder and moves to walk by her side, slowing down to match her pace.

"Hey, nice job today. If you pitch like that in the playoffs, we've got this in the bag for sure."

Catra scoffs loudly, but her face twitches a little with the hint of a smile. "I thought I threw like your baby cousins."

"Oh, you do. But only in the tantrum department. If we're talking about softball, you're more like a Mexican Jennie Finch."

Catra shoves her with the whole left half of her body. "I'm from Guatemala, you dick."

"I know."

They burst into the locker room in peals of laughter, Adora knocking over Lonnie's bag and accidentally spilling her frosted animal crackers onto the floor, which sends them both into conniptions all over again.

Struggling to compose herself, Adora gingerly picks up a pink elephant from the colorful mess and holds it up between her thumb and index finger to show Catra.

"This really says  _'I'm a tough guy,'_ huh?"

"Oh, absolutely; no doubt about it - I'd sure watch my back around that one if I were you."

They explode for the third time, gasping for breath, shaking, Catra holding her presumably aching stomach as she relocates to the floor to lean against the wall of lockers. 

Adora thinks that she could stay like this, in this moment, for the rest of her life. 

But no matter how hard she wishes that time would just stop, the clock ticks on, and after what seems like only a minute, it's six in the evening and she's already going to be late getting home, and she absolutely has to leave right now if she doesn't want her parents asking too many questions. 

The sun is setting outside, turning everything to a deep rosy gold as Adora reluctantly kisses Catra goodbye, hesitating on her chapped lips as her mind runs a mile a minute. As she's about to walk out the door, swinging her backpack over her shoulder, an idea strikes her, and she reaches back to the pile of crackers, amiably tossing a blue sprinkled one at Catra's forehead. She dodges, catches it instinctively, and makes a rude gesture at Adora's bouncing ponytail as she runs off to the parking lot, obviously proud of herself.

She doesn't notice Catra hurriedly flick it away and make a beeline to the sinks to scrub any trace of the sugary icing off her fingers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh would you look at that, i'm feeding the gays* once again
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> *i'm the gays
> 
> ______________________________________________________________________________________

"SHOVE OFF, KYLE!"

"YEAH? MAKE ME!"

Adora groans internally at the two middle-schoolers fighting to the metaphorical death over the last round of Zombie Mayhem Apocalypse 4. She's at least twenty feet in every direction away from the arcade, but she can still hear them screaming bloody murder from her miserable place running the prize collection bar. Exasperated, she pulls off her trademarked purple Etheria Pizza Company cap and makes a weary attempt at tucking some wispy strands of blonde hair back into her ponytail, only for them to pop right back up as soon as she removes her hands. 

Just when Adora is considering that this day couldn't possibly get any worse, she notices in her peripheral vision a short girl with dark blue hair, marching purposefully up to the counter with an armful of silver tokens.

Oh  _no_.

_Please, no._

The girl parades herself up to Adora and dumps her collection unceremoniously onto the cashier's table with a devious grin. 

"What can I get for eight hundred and fifty-seven of these bad boys?" She glances around suspiciously before turning back to face Adora. "Don't let this slip to any of the other staff, but if you just make an _itty-bitty_ mistake with that register and round me up to eight hundred and sixty, I'll throw in a free photo op for you. Did you know that I'm a professional model for Abercrombie Kids? I wore their entire winter line for their website, and they gave me all the clothes for free when I left! I'm going to be famous one day. Hey, if you make it seventy, maybe you can have my autograph too, and-"

Adora interrupts her incessant flow of chatter with a flat, monotone recitation of the list of every item that could be bought with eight hundred tokens or less. The girl pays no attention, instead eyeing a gigantic plush penguin with a checkered scarf that sits on the highest shelf. Adora takes a look at the label - nine hundred tickets. She shakes her head at the small customer with her best impression of sympathy plastered onto her face. "Sorry, Frosta. Not enough for this one. Why don't you go play some more games?"

Frosta's eyes scrunch up tightly, and her small, round face begins to turn bright red.

"I've won every game in this whole place! It's not fair!"

 _Life isn't fair, tater tot. Get used to it,_ Adora longs to say, but manages to stop herself in the nick of time. Instead, she checks her watch, fighting a grimace as she realizes it's five minutes until the end of her shift. At this rate, she'll never leave. Months of experience have taught her the most important lesson of working at a children's pizza buffet:  _ten-year-olds are the most brutal, merciless, and unrelenting creatures on the face of this planet._

She buries her head in her hands with a sigh, deciding to give in. She sweeps Frosta's tokens into the large bucket behind the counter and stands on her tiptoes to pull the giant penguin down from its shelf. Tossing it into the girl's waiting arms, she quickly records the transaction and begins to pack up her things.

Frosta's demeanor immediately does a 360, and she skips out of the prize booth, singing happily to herself while clutching her unauthorized (and technically, stolen) toy.

Adora just hopes this isn't going to get her fired.

* * *

 

Minutes later, Adora slumps against the hard front wall of the building, relishing in the sweet, sweet silence of after-hours. Normally, she'd be trudging to the nearest bus stop a mile and a half away, but today she's so drained of energy that her legs wobble whenever she tries to stand up. Besides, the last thing in the world she wants to do right now is go home and deal with a fresh flood of interrogations about where she's been for so long. 

_Work ends at seven, Adora. You should be home at seven-thirty to start studying. Who drove you here, Adora? I saw you get out of someone's car on the driveway. I hope it's not Catra again. Is that the reason you're so late? Why do you spend so much time with her, anyway? Why don't you use that time to practice your hitting instead? I always thought she was a bad influence, too. You need to take your future more seriously, Adora. Adora. Adora. Adora..._

She pushes the unwanted thoughts hastily from her mind, and instead reaches into the largest pocket of her backpack to fumble for her cell phone. She finds it easily and pulls up her latest conversation with Catra, chewing on her bottom lip in concentration as her fingers hover, fidgeting, over the text bar, impatient for her to think of something to say.

**[07:16]: hey so i just got off work, and the haunting sounds of violent kids' video games that contain an unnecessary amount of blood+massacres are still frying my last remaining brain cells. wanna come rescue me?**

Catra has  _just_ settled down on the couch with a blanket and three cans of sparkling water to finally play the long-anticipated fourth installment of the Zombie Mayhem Apocalypse series when she hears her phone buzz from the kitchen counter where she'd forgotten it. She makes a loud noise of frustration (even though there's no one else in the house to hear it) and tries in vain to untangle herself from the blanket, eventually settling for hopping to the kitchen on the one foot that she manages to get free. It's from Adora, and she skims it quickly, grinning, before tapping out her reply.

_**[07:18]: is that even a question** _

_**[07:18]: ofc i do you gay shit** _

_**[07:19] also u right those games are for losers** _

_**[07:23] omw** _

* * *

 

Catra arrives at about the same time that Adora's fixing to to run out of patience, and the sight of that awful red eyesore of a vehicle is as much of a relief to her as a spring of water is to a lost traveler in the scorching desert. The minivan pulls up to the curb, and Adora slides into the passenger seat, gratefully welcoming the rush of cold air from the A.C. vents and the warm hug she gets from Catra upon turning to greet her.

When they break apart again, Catra gets a good look at the dark bags under Adora's eyes and furrows her brow with mild concern.

"No offense, Adora, but you look like you've just been run over by a train. Or, you know, like, fifty trains. What the hell did they make you do -haul wheelbarrows full of pizza dough or some weird shit like that?"

Adora gives a dry, humorless laugh.  "Trust me, you do not want to know."

Catra starts the car up again, and they're driving around aimlessly, singing along (with the wrong lyrics, in off-key voices) to every overplayed pop song on the radio, when Adora suddenly stops short and asks her in an urgent tone to pull over into a nearby vacant lot.

She swerves immediately to the side of the road and does her best to direct the car into the safest area, but she can't really tell where that would even be, and her main focus is on not smashing straight into one of the other two vehicles parked in the small space.

Adora is breathing heavily, head resting in her palms as she tries to recover her strength. She grabs an unopened bottle from the game-day cooler in the back seat and gulps it down like someone who hasn't seen water in days, leaning on Catra's shoulder for extra support as she gradually returns to her usual level of energy.

Catra frowns and uses one hand to push back Adora's bangs from her face, puzzled over the apparent wave of exhaustion. The other girl had always been in perfect health.

"Are you okay? What's going on? Did you not sleep last night or something?"

Leaning her head back against the top of the seat, Adora draws in a sharp breath. "I'm fine.. I just felt kind of weak for a minute." She turns to look at Catra, confusion written on her face. "I guess I'm just really stressed these days..."

She can tell by her girlfriend's expression that she isn't buying the flimsy excuse for a second.

Catra reaches for Adora's hands, sneaking a subtle glance at her fingernails - they're a healthy pink color, and her skin feels soft and warm. But just to be absolutely sure, she asks the question that's been poking arduously at the back of her mind since they'd left the arcade.

"You've been eating enough, right?"

Adora pauses to consider this.

"Well, yes - I mean, no, I mean... I don't know? I guess, well - today I missed breakfast because I overslept and I couldn't be late for work, and then I didn't really have much time for lunch because I was covering Rogelio's shift after he twisted his ankle trying to break up a fight at the bumper cars, and-"

" _Adora_ , that's not good for you!" Catra cuts in abruptly. "You really have to be more careful about these things. You don't want to end up getting sick, because then you won't be able to go to the playoffs, and we'll lose our star batter, and we'll have no chance of moving on to the state finals! And then we'll both have to look at Scorpia's smug old face as her team gets that huge trophy, and have to listen to them shouting insults at us from the middle of the field while they all get congratulated by every college scout within a five-mile radius!" She pauses to take a breath. "Also, it'll just make your stress even worse."

Giving her a half-smile, Adora sighs and moves to sit upright in her seat, sending a slight chill through Catra's hands as Adora's are pulled away from where they had still been resting underneath her own. 

"I know. You're right. Sometimes, I just forget that other things matter besides grades and work and softball, and I sort of put everything else out of the way until it finally catches up with me."

Catra knows what she means.

"Don't worry about it, you idiot, just...make sure you take care of yourself." She opens up her bag, searching inside it for something Adora can eat, but the only food she has is a carefully portioned half-cup of plain Cheerios, sealed into a small Ziploc bag. All the same, she tosses it into the blonde girl's lap without a second thought.

"Here - have a snack."

Adora gratefully accepts the cereal, inhaling it like it's heroin and she's going through withdrawal. When she finishes, she looks up, and her eyes flick around quickly as if surveying her surroundings for any sign of more edible material.

Catra watches her, relieved, and turns her key in the ignition to start up the engine again. 

"Come on, let's go to my house. You can clean out my entire supply of Doritos if you want, and then we could watch a movie, or work on the dumb-ass physics homework, or something."

"Yeah," Adora agrees distractedly, "or something."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im back again binches
> 
> (p.s. stop reading at the divider if you dont wanna CRY today)

The girls reach Catra's front door, and she glances around in all directions before pulling a spare key out of one of the potted plants sitting on her porch. Adora stifles a laugh as Catra clicks it into the lock and pulls the door back for Adora to enter.

"You know that's the first place a murderer would look, right?"

Catra rolls her eyes. "Well, obviously, Adora. You know I've never been too fond of my parents."

Adora is horrified. Catra finds this wildly amusing, and doubles over in a fit of laughter at the expression of sheer terror on her face. "I'm  _kidding,_ moron," she assures, locking the door behind her and hanging the key back on its hook above the row of light switches. 

"So where are your parents, anyway?" Adora inquires as they head up the creaky staircase to Catra's room.

She shrugs offhandedly, not meeting Adora's eyes.

"Who knows? Probably at some dumb old party or dinner for work that they forgot to tell me anything about. Not much new there." She grins at Adora, with an bit of an unreadable look in her eyes. "Besides, who cares what they're doing? As long as they're gone, we've got the whole house to ourselves."

Adora hides a smirk, catching Catra's hint a couple seconds later. As they settle down in the bedroom, she goes to place her backpack and equipment bag on the floor, opening her mouth to make a suggestion about exactly what type of activity Catra might enjoy doing together. Unfortunately, she's interrupted by the loud grumbling of her stomach, cutting through the almost-tangible silence of the empty house. 

Catra looks up, remembering her promise of free reign to her snack supply, and snaps her fingers, pointing at Adora. 

"Doritos, right? Do you like Nacho Cheese flavor?"

Adora nods vigorously. "You're a saint."

"You'd better believe it."

As Catra wanders back downstairs in search of chips, Adora takes the opportunity to snoop around a little. Her girlfriend's walls are covered in her artwork (which, by the way, is fucking beautiful), but she doesn't notice anything she hasn't already seen. Disappointed, she lets her eyes roam to the top of Catra's desk. It's overflowing with crumpled drawings that didn't turn out quite right, overused paintbrushes that could really have been washed more properly, and a disorganized pile of previous sketchbooks, all filled from cover to cover with what Adora considers to be the absolute epitome of talent and creativity. (Don't worry, she's only a  _little_ biased.) 

She picks up the one that looks least likely to cause a domino effect, sending the entire contents of the desk crashing to the ground, and flips through it, just as impressed by the quality of the work as she'd been when Catra had first shown it to her. It's a pale blue notebook with an impressionistic skyscape done in watercolors on the outside, reaching around to cover both of its sides as well as the spine. 

She replaces it carefully, scanning the area for another easy grab, like she's six again and strategically playing Jenga with her cousins on the floor. One of the notebooks on the far left-hand side catches her eye, mainly because she can't remember having ever seen the drawings in it before. It's smaller than the rest, and a plain red, and the edges are stained blue, making the pages curl up a little at the ends. It's definitely familiar - Adora remembers seeing Catra write in it quite a few times, but she's never offered to let her have a look at its contents.

A devious smile crosses her lips as she peeks out the door to make sure Catra's not on her way back with the snacks yet. After she confirms this, she snatches the little book up eagerly, excited to see what could potentially be a complete collection of  _top secret furry art_ \- the perfect teasing material to get back at Catra for all of her snarky comments about Adora's shelf full of collectible Princess Sparkle dolls that had been the pride and joy of her life in the second grade.

As soon as she lifts the cover, though, her smug satisfaction turns to a unsettling sense of something being...off. The feeling intensifies as she continues to flip through the pages, furrowing her brow in bewilderment at what she's seeing.

The pages are filled not with sketches, but with numbers. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them, some added together, some subtracted, some with messy dates scratched out beside them, and some with none at all. They go straight down the middle of the pages, and then flow across the sides in a sort of spiral that's cleverly designed to take up the least possible amount of paper for the volume of writing. Every empty space has been filled - Adora doesn't think there'd be room to write even one more number on any single page. 

What on Earth would Catra need this for?

She's torn from her thoughts by the sound of footsteps moving up the rickety staircase, and she jumps, scrambling to put the number journal back in its place before Catra gets a chance to waltz in, see Adora, and demand an explanation for why she's been nosing around in her things.

The shorter girl returns with a generous amount of Nacho Cheese Doritos in a large baking bowl, setting it with a loud clatter in front of Adora along with a couple other junk food items that she'd managed to fit in one hand. Adora accepts them gratefully, and decides right then and there that she's not going to interrogate Catra about the book, no matter how strong her hunch that there's something she's not being told. Catra's business is Catra's business, and Adora never should have looked through her things without permission in the first place. She feels a bit guilty as she realizes this, hoping that her girlfriend won't catch on to Adora's unwittingly discovered knowledge.

If Catra notices anything, she doesn't show it, because she's still in as content a mood as ever (for her, at least), pulling a large pillow down from her bed to sit on and joining Adora on the carpet with a steaming mug of tea. It smells like orange peels and cinnamon, and Adora finds herself leaning forward, taking in the calming scent with a deep, long breath.

Catra taps on her phone a few times, pulling up a random Spotify playlist, and the air in the quiet room is filled with sweet, slow notes as she sets it down on the floor beside her. Adora's feet start tapping to the music's gentle tempo without her even realizing it, and she finds that she likes this particular song just as much as she likes the Doritos that she's shamelessly shoving into her face. 

She feels a pair of eyes on her, and pauses her Dorito-stuffing momentarily to hold the bowl out, offering it to Catra. "Do you want some?"

Catra shakes her head quickly, staring at the floor, and mumbles something about not being hungry. It doesn't take long for her to change the subject, and within a second she's gone off on some tangent about softball, and Adora is nodding her head and pretending to listen, gazing softly into mismatched eyes while her brain runs like a one-track record in the background. 

_I don't think anyone's ever wanted anything more than I want her to kiss me right now._

Yawning, Catra reaches behind her, stretching out her long, skinny arms out to the back wall and then up to the ceiling. She hesitates for a moment, silent, before leaning over to wave a hand in front of her girlfriend's face.

"Hey, Earth to Adora!"

Adora jumps, startled out of her meandering thoughts. "Huh?"

Catra points to the light switch on the wall, a few feet above the top of Adora's head in respect to where she's sitting.

"You're right next to the door. Can you reach up and close that? I'm tired, and it's too damn bright in here."

Adora blinks. "Close...what?"

The other girl huffs in frustration. "Close the  _lights!_ You're right there!"

Realizing what she means, Adora reluctantly gets up to flick off the switch, with the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Spanglish," she teases lightly at Catra as she returns to her pillow-seat.

Catra groans. "Oh God, not  _again._ What did I get wrong this time?"

"You don't  _close_ lights, you turn them off. But don't stop-" she adds, leaning in closer to Catra's face, "I think it's super hot when you say words wrong."

Of course, Catra smirks at her, but in a split second she's pressing her lips to Adora's, muffling the fit of giggles she'd fallen into over her own joke. The music coming from her phone's playlist seems to get a little louder as she accidentally topples them both onto the floor, her hands tangled in Adora's loose hair, her heart racing, sending the same burst of adrenaline through her body that it does every time they do this.

Adora rolls to her side, adjusting their positions so that Catra's now the one lying with her back to the carpet. They feel for each other's hands, laughing, in the now-darkening room, and they slip back together as easily as magnets can find metal. 

Catra loses track of reality in Adora's eyes - have they been here two minutes? Two hours? Two lifetimes? She'd never know, but it doesn't matter, because she could stay here like this for an eternity if no one ever reminded her that other people and other places and other problems existed.

* * *

 

They're sitting on Catra's bed now, having relocated from their makeshift chairs on the floor, and neither of them wants to pull away from the other for long enough to breathe. One of Adora's hands is resting on Catra's hip, while the other reaches up to cup the side of her face. Everything is fine. Everything is calm. Everything is perfect.

Until Catra gets reminded of her other problems.

One second, Adora's hands are where they're supposed to stay, where they  _need_  to stay, and the next, they've somehow found their way underneath Catra's black T-shirt, radiating warmth against her cold skin; pressing gently against the soft part of her stomach. 

Catra panics. She doesn't have time to react before she's overwhelmed with a horrible wave of revulsion, the nausea that accompanies it spreading rapidly into her arms and legs until she's sure she's going to throw up all over Adora and the fresh bedsheets that she'd just washed blue Powerade out of.

"Hey - what are you - .... _stop_!" Catra cries out before she can stop herself. She recoils from Adora's touch in an instant, a hurricane of emotions flashing in her eyes.

Adora springs back as soon as the words leave Catra's mouth, an expression of concern mingling with hurt on her face as she struggles to compose herself.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean - I mean - I didn't know - I should have asked you first, but.." Her voice trails off as she sees Catra try to hide the tears that she's furiously rubbing from her eyes. "I'm sorry," she tries again, quietly.

Catra barely seems to register this - she's staring blankly at the wall, not really responding.

Adora is confused, and scared, and she doesn't know what else to do, so she hurriedly collects her bags and rushes out of the room, stammering out some excuse about it getting late and needing to head back home.

Catra snaps out of her daze as Adora's taking the stairs two at a time, and the realization of what just happened hits her like a speeding fly ball straight to the temple.

She shoves open the door, racing to the top of the stairwell.

"Hey!" she calls into the silent darkness. "Hey, Adora, wait!"

Adora doesn't wait.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi uH sorry this took 600 years but i LITERALLY accidentally deleted over half the chapter because i'm an egg with no technological skills oops
> 
> e n j oy i guess

It's ten o'clock at night, pitch black, and getting colder, and Adora's a few blocks away from Catra's house, desperately searching through her phone's contacts for someone with a car and a good sense of altruism.

She'd forgotten that she didn't have a way to get home until she was already halfway down the street, and after seeing the six missed calls and numerous angry texts from her mother demanding to know where she'd been all this time, she had ruled that out as an option.

Shivering, she decides to dial Bow's number, and lifts the phone to her ear, praying that he's still up late working on the computer he's building out of the spare parts of three other broken ones. 

_Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring-_

She hears some ambiguous rustling, and then a loud crash, and finally her friend's voice comes in with a little bit of static on the other line.

"Huh? - just a second- hang on-"

There's a pause, and then what sounds like something heavy falling to the floor, and Adora can make out a muffled "ouch!" in the background.

"Um....hello?" she ventures, wondering if she could have possibly interrupted him in the middle of a compromising situation.

Thankfully, her fears are relieved as soon as Bow's voice comes back through, clearer than before, and free from the cacophonous musical accompaniment of all of the furniture in his room.

"Oops, sorry Adora - I just tripped over the  _Bow-totype_ _360_ 's extension cord. I always forget it's there in the middle of the doorway when I'm coming back from the kitchen. What's up?"

She raises an eyebrow. "The what, now?"

Bow snickers. "You know, like a  _prototype_ , but instead, it's like,  _Bow-_ totype? Because my name's Bow? Get it?"

"Oh - yeah, uh, I got it." Adora pauses. "It's just....um...not very funny?"

She winces a little as soon as she hears her own comment - it had come out sounding harsher than she intended.

Luckily, Bow takes no offense. "You wouldn't know funny if Scorpia wrote it in Sharpie on one of her softballs and sent it heading straight for your face like an Adora-seeking missile," he replies without a hint of malice in the words.

This manages to get a small laugh out of Adora, and it suddenly makes her realize just how grateful she is to have friends who can make her smile even when the only thing in the world she wants to do is cry. 

She takes a deep breath.

"Listen, Bow - are you busy with anything right now?"

He's silent for a moment.

"Do you need me not to be?"

Relief washes over Adora like a wave, and she slowly allows herself to relax her tensing muscles.

"Yeah...um, I kind of do. It's just that I - um, well, I just left Catra's house, and I don't really have a ride home, and even if I did, I couldn't go, because my mom - she's already mad at me for staying out way too late, and if I went there now - well....it just wouldn't be good."

Her friend hesitates, confused.

"Catra....she didn't want to drive you?"

"Well, no - I mean, yes, originally, but- " Adora sighs in frustration. "It's sort of a long story."

There's a quiet pause again, and then Bow hums thoughtfully.

"Okay, let's see - my dads are asleep already, so I should be able to slip out with the car if I'm really quiet. Do you want me to bring you anything?"

Adora shakes her head, forgetting that Bow can't see the gesture. "No, I'm fine. But thank you, though."

"Alright - I'm about to pull up a map. Do you at least have a general idea of where you are?"

"I think so." She tells him Catra's home address, and then holds up her phone's flashlight, waving it around in a wide circle in an attempt to make out the names written on any nearby street signs.

After a couple minutes, she hears him open what she assumes to be his front door, and soon after, he informs her that he's about to leave.

"I can't believeyou're making me do this, Adora," he teases, only half-serious. "I can't sneak out of the house - I'm a  _good kid_! Don't you know that only dirty, rotten, rebellious delinquents who probably hate baby animals steal cars? If I get  _grounded,_ you're going to owe me your chocolate pudding cups at lunch every day for the rest of the year - no, the rest of our lives."

She smiles. "It's a done deal."

Bow's engine starts up with a roar, and then slows into a steady hum as he pulls out of the driveway.

"Sorry, Adora, but I just changed my mind - If I get in trouble, I want your pudding cups  _and_ Catra's pudding cups. She never eats them, anyway. Is she allergic to chocolate or something? I would hate it if I was allergic to chocolate! It would be the saddest life I could imagine..."

He continues rambling, but Adora doesn't really mind - at this point, she's just glad to be talking to someone. Sometimes it can get a little unnerving walking around alone at night, and simply hearing another person's voice can actually be more of a comfort than one might think. 

* * *

 

Bow takes a little longer than expected to reach the neighborhood, but just as Adora's starting to worry, she suddenly glimpses the bright, familiar glare of a pair of shining headlights, reaching the peak of the hill she's standing on and speeding down the street in her direction.

Quickly, she gets to her feet, waving her arms frantically at her friend's dim figure in the front window. Catching sight of her under the weak glow of a nearby streetlamp, he slams on the brakes in the nick of time, tires scraping asphalt as the car screeches to a halt in front of the sidewalk.

The engine shuts off, and Bow is out the door in a second, hurrying to meet her at the edge of the curb.

"Are you okay?" he inquires, eyes narrowed in concern.

Adora nods, not meeting his gaze.

"Good," he replies, reaching behind Adora to let her into the passenger seat and flashing her a small smile. "Because if you'd gotten yourself murdered out here, I'd have to kill you, you know."

Bow closes the door after her and walks around to the opposite side of the car to take the driver's seat. He turns the key in the ignition, and the old SUV starts to sputter down the road. Adora leans back against the soft headrest, closing her eyes halfway because she's exhausted and halfway because she doesn't want Bow to notice the hot tears that are rapidly pooling underneath them as she's forced by the silence to relive her too-vivid memories from earlier that evening.

Of course, the good Lord decides that's too much to ask, and Bow glances back at her, wearing the gentle expression that has always meant he knows that something isn't right.

"So," he starts, "you had a fight with Catra?"

"No!" Adora protests, then buries her face into her hands with a long sigh. "I mean....I don't know. Like I said, it's a long story."

They drive in silence for a while, the only audible sounds the click-clack of a hanging pine-scented air freshener against the dashboard and the soft lull of the old, crackling radio, which is looping a track of classic 80's hits that Bow had gotten jammed in his CD player back in freshman year. This time, though, Adora doesn't even think to complain about having to sit through the six slightly varied renditions of  _Livin' on a Prayer_ in a row - her mind is about as far from background music as the east is from the west.

Bow's the first to cut the ice-thick tension that hovers in the warm air around them.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Adora wishes she didn't, but she really, really does, and before she realizes what's happening, she's pouring her entire heart out to Bow as he drives her down an unfamiliar road in the middle of the night, her shaky voice drowning Bon Jovi out until his lyrics become indistinguishable. 

She tells him how only hours ago they'd been talking, and laughing, and kissing, feeling as if they were floating on clouds at the top of the figurative world, and everything had been wonderful, until she'd had to go and  _fuck it all up,_ and she'd be surprised if Catra ever wanted to see her face again, and-

"Whoa, whoa, hey, Adora, slow down!" Bow interjects, reaching over to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Of course Catra wants to see your face again! I bet she's not even mad at you. I know her well enough to know that she wouldn't get really angry about something like this."

Adora scoffs, peeling her eyes away from her friend's, and gestures with vigor to the empty notification screen on the phone in her hand. "Then, why hasn't she said anything to me?"

"Well, you did run away - maybe she thinks you're the one who's mad at her."

His statement hits Adora like a truck full of bricks running seventy in a forty-five, and she realizes for the first time how her speedy escape must have looked from Catra's perspective. 

"I guess I hadn't thought of that."

Looking up, Adora notices all at once that she recognizes her surroundings. Bow is turning sharply to pull the car into his driveway, headlights flickering as he brakes and powers down the engine. Bon Jovi cuts out, leaving the two of them in the hushed darkness once again.

"Bow."

"Yeah?"

Adora picks at the skin underneath the tips of her fingernails. "What am I going to tell my parents?"

Bow frowns. "Hey," he says, grabbing one of her hands firmly, "we'll figure it out. For tonight, you can stay here, and tomorrow I'll take you home and spin your mom some elaborate tale about how we spent the evening saving innocent children from a kidnapping conspiracy while simultaneously prepping for the SAT's. Don't worry."

She smiles, a bit more at ease now, and leans forward to give Bow a tight hug, which he happily returns.

* * *

 

Later, as Adora lies on her side in the middle of Bow's soft carpeted rug, staring over at the pinpoints of green light blinking patterns in the dark from his nearly-finished computer, her thoughts wander to Catra once again.

Absentmindedly, she rolls over to pick up her phone from its spot beside her on the floor. She opens her messages, intending to read over the ones from her mother, but nearly has a heart attack as she suddenly notices the source of her latest unread notification.

**[11:24 pm] Catra: i'm sorry**

**[11:24 pm] Catra: i can explain**

**[11:32 pm] Catra: please call me?**

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my dudes welcome to the latest installment of I'm A Mess And So Is This Fic
> 
> (spanish translations at the end)

Catra sits at the top of her staircase, hands shaky and cold as she types out her last message. She forces herself to hit 'send,' inevitably entering into an all-or-nothing game in which she could either end up pulling herself out of the hole she's fallen into or burying herself even deeper.

**[11:32 pm] Catra: please call me?**

She waits, tapping her feet anxiously, fidgeting with a loose strand of her hair, moving her phone from hand to hand, clicking the screen on and off and on and off again...

The clock ticks away, cutting into the silence, its steady rhythm pounding into Catra's heart like a bomb that's counting down to detonation. Two minutes. Four minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Half an hour.

There's no reply. 

Catra expects to be sad. Disappointed, really. Humiliated. But instead, she finds herself lifting her head with a new sense of ugly, bitter anger burning behind her eyes. She grabs the phone again, a few choice words for Adora forming in her mind as soon as she reopens the conversation.

**[12:03 am] Catra: okay well fuck you then**

Of course, she doesn't send it.

* * *

 Meanwhile, Adora stares at her own tiny screen in the dark, puzzling over her girlfriend's words. Why was Catra apologizing to  _her?_ What did she have to explain? 

 _Is there something I'm missing here?_ she wonders, reading and re-reading the messages until green spots dance in front of her eyes and she's compelled to to set the bright light aside.

Adora sighs, leaning her head back gently against one of Bow's fluffy pillows. She's gazing blankly up at the ceiling, halfheartedly counting his many glow-in-the-dark stars, when all at once a terrible thought strikes her like a flyaway tree branch in the middle of a hurricane.

_What if Catra doesn't like me anymore?_

She rolls the idea around in her mind, her racing thoughts offering up any possible evidence for this theory. It would explain why Catra's been so distant lately - why she keeps cancelling on dates, why she never wants to go with Adora for milkshakes at their favorite fast-food joint after practice anymore, why she doesn't want to take it any farther than kissing even when they've got the perfect opportunity - it would explain everything.

Part of Adora doesn't want to know; wants to push it all out of her head and fall asleep and not worry about this until she absolutely has to. Pretend she had never thought of it in the first place and everything would be fine.

But that's not Adora, and however strongly she might try to deny it, her curiosity is still flaring, and her heart is screaming for Catra to prove her wrong.

Slowly, she picks up the phone, shooting a quick glance at Bow to make sure he hasn't woken up before she punches in Catra's number and hits 'dial.'

 **[Calling** Catra is the greatest softball lord 420696969 **. SPEAKER / END CALL]**

* * *

 A sudden burst of music startles Catra from her stupor, making her jump a little and prickling the fine hairs on her skin. It's her ringtone, and she hurriedly looks down at her screen, feeling a stab of anxiety through her chest as she sees the caller ID.

 **[Incoming call from** adora the explorer **. ACCEPT / DENY]**

Catra accepts.

It's silent for a split second, and then she hears Adora's voice crackling through the phone, and it feels like being lifted out of the raging ocean into a welcome lifeboat.

"Hey, Catra."

She sounds gentle, worried. Maybe sad. Maybe scared.

Catra's anger floods out of her body in an instant, and she can feel it melting down from her head to the tips of her fingers, molten lead under her skin that leaves her chilled and shaky in lieu of blazing heat. She's immediately ashamed that she'd assumed the worst of Adora, who had never been anything but warm and kind and patient and honest, even when she had every right to be the opposite.

"Hey, Adora - listen, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out, it's just-"

Adora cuts her off abruptly. "Will you please stop saying 'sorry'? It's my fault - I'm the one who should be apologizing!" She pauses, and Catra tries to object, but she's interrupted again before she can get a word in.

"Catra....I need to ask you something. And you have to tell me the truth, okay? I swear I won't be mad if you just give me a straight answer."

Catra's heart clenches, and her head is spinning like a nausea-inducing carnival ride as one single, horrible thought races through her mind.

_Oh, my God, she knows, she knows, she knows, she knows, she knows, she knows..._

Adora's talking again, but her voice is barely comprehensible in the whirling chaos.

"Will you  _promise_ to tell me the truth? Please?"

"Okay," Catra doesn't hear herself say, "I promise."

She hears Adora draw in a deep breath.

"Do you still want to be together?"

A unnatural, hybrid wave of emotions crashes over Catra, unfathomable relief mixing with incredulity and fresh anger - not at Adora, but at herself as she realizes the awful misunderstanding that her actions must have caused.

"What? Of course I do,  _pinche tonta-"_

Adora's voice lightens, and she laughs softly. "I don't speak Spanish."

"Why not? You should."

Catra can practically feel Adora rolling her eyes.

"So," she ventures, "are we okay?"

"Of course we're okay," Catra affirms, "you moron. And it's _not_ your fault, either," she adds quickly. "Just warn me next time, yeah?"

Adora goes uncomfortably silent, but she doesn't argue. Eventually, she speaks up again, her tone firm and sincere. "Yeah. I will."

Catra smiles, weak from contentment. "Okay. Now go the fuck to sleep, got it?"

"I got it." She hesitates. "Hey, Catra?"

"Yeah?"

Adora's fingers are drumming anxiously against the back of her phone, and Catra knows it because the tapping sound translates to broken static on her end. 

"You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Catra shifts the phone to her other hand so she can pick at a frayed spot on her jeans. "Sure, I do."

Her girlfriend sighs. "Okay. Don't forget it."

"Okay."

"You'll call me tomorrow?"

"For sure."

"Okay," Adora repeats again, "good night, Catra."

"Good night, dick-face."

 **[Call ended with** adora the explorer **.]**

* * *

 

Back on Bow's rug, Adora turns over to face the wall, thinking back on the conversation she'd just had. Catra had sounded genuine. She hadn't been outright lying - Adora was sure of it. But there was something else - a feeling, maybe, or a hunch, nagging at the back of her mind, that something about the way the other girl had spoken had been  _wrong._ She knew how Catra sounded when she was telling the wholehearted truth, and that....well, that just hadn't been the same.

Resolving to do some detective work later on, Adora clears her thoughts and focuses on falling asleep. The playoffs are in three days, and she can't afford to lose her strength.

As she dozes off, snoring softly, Bow (who is a very good actor) cracks open one eye and gazes suspiciously in her direction.

_I probably shouldn't have been eavesdropping. But I was worried about Catra. What's going on with her? She hasn't been acting like herself..._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "pinche tonta" = dumb fuck / fucking stupid
> 
>  
> 
> anyway so my pinche tonta of a little sister snooped on my laptop and read this fic when i specifically told her not to so i bought her a horrendously ugly stuffed cat at a thrift store. she hates it. gods work is done


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOOF THIS GOT A LITTLE DARK, tw for moderate self injury and homphobia/slurs
> 
> spanish translations at the end!

It's seven-thirty A.M., on Tuesday, the eighteenth of April - the morning before the huge playoff game that Catra's been training for relentlessly for the past two months. She sighs and wrings her hands in apprehension, reflecting on all the extra hours that she'd spent pitching balls at various spots on the trunks of unsuspecting trees, tirelessly perfecting her aim and range until her arms were sore and aching. 

She thinks of Adora, too - remembering the countless times she'd stayed at the batting cages in the evenings, swinging away with feverish determination long after the sun had gone down and even Catra was too exhausted to keep pitching for her.  _Please,_ Adora would always say,  _just ten more minutes. You throw so much better than this damn automated crap anyway._

They'd both worked so hard; their entire team had worked so hard. Glimmer, Bow, Lonnie, Kyle, Rogelio, Mermista, Perfuma... they'd all be furious if Catra let them down today. Today mattered more than any other day in her life up to this point - and here she was, about to risk throwing eight weeks' worth of backbreaking exertion down the drain over a piece of  _pan dulce_ and an over-easy egg.

Catra had woken up that morning to find her legs so weak and shaky that it required a tremendous amount of effort just to stand up from her bed. Her heart had been pounding, her head spinning, and she'd stumbled, groaning, into the bathroom to gulp cold water straight from the faucet. As soon as she lifted her head again, she started to feel a sudden, terrible numbness spreading rapidly through all her limbs; her vision began to blur and turn black. She'd had to slap herself vigorously on the side of her face a few times just to avoid passing out. 

Now, she's sitting at the kitchen table, locked in an intense stare-down with the unassuming plate of breakfast that she knows she'll have to eat if she wants any chance of being in good enough shape to play today. She glares at it, eyes narrowing in what she hopes is an intimidating expression.

The breakfast does not glare back.

 _You don't scare me,_ Catra thinks.  _I can do whatever I damn well want._  And just to prove it, she picks up her fork and stabs it into the egg, lifting a large bite directly in front of her mouth. 

The egg waits.

Catra waits.

The egg waits some more.

Finally, she slams the fork back down on her plate with an aggravated cry of frustration, cursing her inability to do something so _simple_ and  _easy_. She buries her face in her hands, pushing the food away angrily, and little by little, the unbearable alarm sirens in her head begin to quiet down.

But Catra's not done. She's never been one to go down without a fight, and she isn't planning to lose to the Highland Hills Horde today - much less to  _un_   _maldito desayuno_ from hell. In no time at all, she's formulating a Plan B, keeping a close eye on the telltale clock that's warning her on the minute of the fact that she needs to leave very, very soon.

Catra goes to work quickly, pulling a heavy plastic jar filled all the way up with uncooked rice from a cabinet under the sink. She brings it back to the table, setting it down next to her plate with a light  _thud._

Then she picks it up again, this time in one hand, and hoists it over her right shoulder. If Catra times this  _just right,_ it should work perfectly. 

Gritting her teeth, she sets her non-pitching hand back on the table and counts to herself.

One. Two. Three-

Catra smashes the jar down with the force of a wrecking ball, crushing her left hand into the wooden tabletop. It sends a searing rush of white-hot pain shooting up her entire arm, effectively clearing her mind of anything but the burning sensation, and she struggles to bite back a scream.

It really hurts. And it sucks. But it's enough.

Immediately, Catra drops the jar and snatches up the fork again, shoving bites of egg down her throat as fast as she can go before the blessed distraction wears off. She barely makes it, but the job is done. 

The imaginary sirens start up again, a thousand times louder than before, but this time, she screams right back at them.

"Fuck you!" she explodes aloud. "Shut _up_! There's nothing you can do about it now!"

Breathing heavily, Catra pulls out her phone and opens her tracking app to record. Her worn-out notebook had long since been overfilled, so she'd decided to do it digitally for a change of pace. She has to admit that this is a hell of a lot easier.

**70 calories**

She leans back into her chair, tilting her head to the ceiling and closing her eyes in relief for a short, sweet, second. Then she sits up again, her dissonant gaze falling to the colorful pastry that remains on the table, looking lonely and fat and a little squashed. It sort of reminds Catra of herself.

But Catra's only got one good hand left. Some days she could handle these things on her own, but today was just not one of those days.

Catra laces up her red cleats and swings her equipment bag over her shoulder, slamming the front door behind her for good measure as she leaves. The  _pan dulce_ stays right where it is.

* * *

 

It's eight-fifteen, and the bus is supposed to leave at eight-thirty, and Catra is  _still_ nowhere to be seen. Adora groans in frustration, checking her messages for the hundredth time in the last five minutes.

_It is just like her to be late at the worst possible time for anyone to be late, ever._

**[8:16 am] Adora: i stg if u don't show up in the next three seconds im dumping u for kyle**

She smiles as she instantly sees the three dots that indicate Catra's typing a reply.

**[8:17 am] Catra: kyle's too good for your sorry ass**

**[8:17 am] Catra: also chill, i'm signing out of first period right now**

Finally, Adora sees her sprinting up to join the rest of the team, just as the athletics bus is pulling up to the side of the curb. As Catra reaches the spot where Adora's standing, she stops to rest her hands on her knees, visibly out of breath. But she's smiling, and her mismatched eyes are glinting with fresh excitement. She stands again, gripping Adora tightly by the shoulders.

"Are you ready?" she demands, practically bouncing with anticipation.

Adora returns the grin with a hint of smug arrogance. "I am so,  _so_ ready."

"Good," Catra says, leaning in a little closer to her face, "because as soon as we win this thing, we're going straight to the state finals, and if we win that, we'll be  _legends_ _!_ "

Her girlfriend laughs. "I already think you're a legend."

Catra looks like she's melting. "Stop, that's  _gay."_  

"Yeah - real gay," a harsh voice cuts in behind them, and the amicable mood vanishes from the air faster than scattered vapor. Adora whirls around, and her teammates pause their eager conversations to look over their shoulders.

The voice belongs to a tall, sandy-haired boy who Adora recognizes as the one of the co-captains of the boys' lacrosse team - which is presently gathered around him like a herd of blindly following sheep. He takes a step forward, crossing his arms over his chest, a mocking jeer written on his face.

"So, what's the lesbian brigade doing on our bus?"

" _Your_ _bus_?!" Glimmer rages, and Bow has to hold her back from committing what would likely turn out as aggravated assault. Her short legs scramble to no effect on the ground as she struggles against her best friend's grip. 

The boy snickers. "Yeah,  _our bus._ Lacrosse has a tournament today, and unlike your little team of-" - he gestures vaguely to Catra and Kyle - "anorexic switch hitters, we have an actual chance of pulling this damned school out of a five-year slump." He jabs a finger into Kyle's chest, who gulps in fear and steps backwards. "So, you'd better stay the fuck out of our way if you ever want to see another cent of funding for your stupid tee-ball club. Got that?"

Adora fixes him with one of her worst death glares of the decade. "Leave us alone, asshole."

He smirks, moving closer to her so he can reach around the back of her head to grab her tight ponytail. Twirling a strand of her hair around his sunburnt fingers, he feigns an expression of admiration.

"You know," he remarks into the open air, "I never knew dykes could be pretty until I met Adora." He turns back to address her directly, so near now to her face that she can feel his nasty, hot breath on her neck, making every inch of her skin crawl. "How about you and I make a good, old-fashioned bet? Fifty dollars says I can turn you straight in seven minutes, and hell, if I lose that one, you can  _have_ the damn bus."

Catra  _loses it._

"Don't you  _fucking_ talk to her like that-"

The boy just laughs again. "Or what, bone sack?"

"Or I'll wipe that ugly fucking look right off your _ugly fucking face_ -"

Suddenly, they're interrupted by the rapidly approaching lacrosse coach, who's waving his arms furiously as he runs to get his team's attention.

"What the hell are you all doing over here? Didn't any of you pay attention to what I said yesterday? Our bus is parked on the other side of the gym!" He motions with his hands to the large group of boys, waving them along impatiently as the softball players stifle their laughter. "Come on, hustle, we leave in five minutes, let's  _go!_ Move! Move! Move!"

"Bye," calls Adora cheerfully as the last of them passes by, earning herself nine wrathful glares and one subtle thumbs-up from Sea Hawk - the only lacrosse player who doesn't have a giant stick up his ass.  _I'm only in this to meet cute girls,_ he'd once admitted to her, and Adora had understood completely.

As soon as they're gone, she turns back to Catra, slinging an arm loosely around her shoulders as they start to board the bus. "Don't let those dickheads get in the way of what's about to be the most glorious day of our entire high school careers." She hesitates for a moment. "And, hey - thanks for defending me," she adds, bumping Catra lightly with the side of her arm. 

Catra smiles again.

"Yeah - anytime."

They find a seat at the very back, and in no time at all the bus is sputtering out of the parking lot, and the nerve-wracking two-hour drive to the Salineas Athletic Stadium has begun at last.

At first, the players talk amongst themselves, diligently reviewing game strategies and quizzing each other on the specific weaknesses of each and every Horde member, but they soon lose interest and their incessant chatter fades out into a calm, mutual tranquility.

The sun has fully risen by now, and its light glints golden on Catra's brown hair as it filters through the clear window. She's lounging across the long seat, her head resting in Adora's lap, listening to the soft tune she's humming absentmindedly - something she'd heard on the radio, maybe?

When the sound stops, Catra flicks one eye open, lifting her chin to give Adora a confused look.

She laughs gently in return. "Hey, Catra."

"What?"

"I think I'm gonna call you  _bone sack_ now."

They both dissolve into convulsions all over again, Adora burying her face in Catra's hair as she tries to choke out a rasping breath between peals of laughter.

When they manage to compose themselves, Catra stares up at her, still grinning stupidly. "Me too, actually. It's really such a prime insult."

Adora snorts, then pokes at the visible bones that jut out from the sides of Catra's wrists. "You  _are_ really goddamn skinny, though," she offhandedly remarks.

Catra doesn't have a snide response to that, but Adora can feel her tense slightly at the comment, so she quickly drops the subject.

"Hey - you know it won't be the end of the world if we don't win, right?"

Catra shifts the position of her head by a few inches. "Theoretically. But," she adds, "we  _will_  win. I believe in us. Yeah, even you, Lonnie," she calls across the aisle. Lonnie glares, but it's clear that her heart isn't in it.

She sits upright, changing her tone to address the entire team. "Listen up, losers. I believe in every single one of you miserable little fucks. So let's show these fancy prep school jerks what Brightmoon is made of, okay?"

"Yeah!" Bow shouts enthusiastically, and everyone else joins in, entirely for his sake.

Catra leans back against the window, satisfied with her impromptu pep talk. They'd been preparing for this for so long, and although nervous, she's still confident in her team's abilities. What they lack in talent, they make up for with hard work, perseverance, and a constant stream of innuendos that always amuses everyone but Adora.

She stares out at her surroundings, fingers rattling against the glass as the bus moseys over a rough patch on the now-dirt road. 

This is  _her_   _day_ \- her one, fleeting chance to prove herself, and she isn't going to let anything stop her from doing it right.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maldito desayuno = goddamn breakfast  
> pan dulce = also called conchas, a sweet pastry thing with a colorful dough on top made of shortening or something


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i wrote this whole thing after literally chugging 36 oz of diet dr pepper, hahahahaha UM dont expect quality writing ok thanks for coming to my ted talk
> 
> spanish translations at the end!

Adora digs her heels into the red-tinted dirt in front of home plate, blue eyes narrowed and fixed firmly on the Horde pitcher, who's staring her down in an attempt at intimidation. The girl's short undercut has been blown every which way by the constant breeze, and as she reaches up to push it out of her eyes, Adora notices how strong her arms look - undoubtedly the result of years of difficult, intense training. It's a well-known fact among the junior softball teams that Scorpia can serve up the most powerful pitch in the entire league, and it's a rare player that has the speed and precision required to match her.

She breathes deeply to calm her nerves, Catra's many words of advice flooding back into her mind as she tries desperately to draw on weeks of preparation. Then Scorpia twists her shoulder back a little, and her gaze flicks across the field to Adora's left.

 _Okay,_ says the echo of Catra's voice in Adora's memory,  _so if she's starting with her hand a little behind her hip, and she looks out at an angle instead of straight ahead, she's probably going for one of her killer curveballs. Pitchers have this little trick where they map out the swing of of the curve by measuring it with their eyes and following an imaginary line as they throw. But the catch is that it's a split second, Adora. You have to watch; you have to follow her every move and figure out where the ball's gonna be before it even leaves her hands. That's the only way you can beat her - brute force is nothing if you don't have the strategy to back it up._

Adora bites her lip and watches intently, heart pounding, from underneath her helmet.

And she's right - Scorpia snaps her wrist, and the ball is hurtling towards her in the blink of an eye, just like Catra's pitches always do when Adora scrunches up her nose and clenches her fists and says _now_ _don't go easy on me or I'll sell your letterman jacket to Kyle's mom for fifteen dollars on eBay_. 

But this time, she's ready for it.

Adora predicts easily where the pitch will contact, and she throws all her strength and power into a wide, confident swing that sends the ball flying into far left field like a wayward bullet. She breaks into a sprint, tearing across the bases, kicking up clouds of scarlet dust as her team erupts into screams of victory around her.  Everything is a whirling, abstract blur, and her ears block out so much sound that she doesn't hear the ball smacking directly into the third baseman's glove - three seconds after she slides, exhilarated, into home plate. 

There's a heartbeat of absolute silence, then the referee's whistle cuts sharply through the air to signal for halftime, dismissing both teams to the dugouts on the sides of the field. Adora doesn't notice her friends approaching from behind until Glimmer and Bow nearly tackle her to the ground in a dramatic hug.

"That was amazing!" the shorter girl exclaims, eyes glittering with excitement. "I think we're taking the lead now!"

Adora wipes the sweat from her face with the sleeve of her button-up jersey and replaces her blue Brightmoon cap on top of her head. "I hope so." She shoots a quick glance at the rest of her team, which is currently struggling to lift a couple of stocked-up coolers onto the wooden benches for easier access. "Come on, let's go get some snacks before Mermista and Rogelio actually inhale them all."

When she enters the dugout, she's met with a cacophony of scattered cheers and applause, and she smiles in spite of herself at the praise. Even Mermista, who is, in fact, pouring an eight-ounce bag of hot Cheetos into her mouth like it's a bottle of water, pauses reluctantly to give Adora a thumbs-up.

"Hey, so, uh, I guess that wasn't the  _most_ horrible home run I've ever seen. I mean, there have definitely been worse ones. So, like, nice job. Or whatever," she adds quickly.

Adora is genuinely touched. "Thanks, Mermista."

She leans over to open one of the coolers, inspecting its contents carefully before grabbing two paper-wrapped ice-cream sandwiches and scanning the area hastily for Catra. Adora needs to thank her for those crucial tips - but she doesn't seem to be with the rest of the team.

Apprehensively, she taps Rogelio on the shoulder as he returns for his third can of Sprite and another energy bar. "Hey, did you see where Catra went?"

He nods, jerking a thumb back in the direction of the field. "I think she's warming up. She's up to pitch when we start the second half, and it looks like the Horde's got a hell of a good batting lineup today. I'm telling you, they're catching on to our weak spots. The coach was watching when she skewed that drop-ball in the first inning, and now I'll bet he's going to put her up against number seven. That guy can knock out curves and trick throws like a machine - she won't have another option."

Adora chews on her bottom lip. "I'm sure she's got a plan. Besides, it was just one mistake - we drilled drop pitches in practice plenty."

She heads out to find Catra, a loud squeal coming from the flimsy wire door's rusty hinges as she pushes it open to step back onto the field.

Catra's standing in a patch of sparse grass on the far edge, in front of the fence that divides the bleachers from the gameplay area. She's moving mechanically through a few windup drills and jogging in place, probably to shake the stiffness and nerves from her body, and her serious expression is clouded with worry.

Nevertheless, her face softens as she catches sight of Adora, and she tosses her ball and glove aside with a grin, moving forward to meet her.

"Hey, you were great back there!" she says proudly, reaching up to flop Adora's rigidly placed hat over to one side. "Scorpia looked like she'd been punched in the face, you totally should have seen it." She clasps her hands to the sides of her cheeks and opens her mouth like a gaping pelican in a live recreation of Scorpia's reaction, struggling to hold back a fit of laughter.

Adora shakes her head, smiling, and tosses Catra one of the ice-cream bars she'd picked up, flopping herself wearily down on the dirt and motioning to her girlfriend to sit down and join her.

"Come on, let's take a break. You've done that a thousand times - how's a thousand and one gonna make any difference?"

Catra frowns, but takes the spot beside her anyway. Stretching her long legs out in front of her, she picks a little at the plain white paper that the ice cream is wrapped in, hesitating to remove it.

"Wait, who brought these?"

Adora pauses to swallow, half of her own bar already stuffed into her mouth. "Bow, I think. His dads always say that teenagers can't function without sweets, so that's why they send him with this stuff instead of boring protein bars."

Catra pulls at a loose thread in the sleeve of her shirt, then resumes poking at the ice cream through its wrapper with her fingernail so that it leaves tiny indentations along the side. "Did he, um, bring them in the box? Like, from the store?"

Adora stops and stares, confused. "I don't know. I didn't see. Why does that matter?"

She can feel Catra tense up once again as her gaze drops from Adora to her dusty cleats. "It doesn't - never mind."

Doubtfully, Adora points at the still-untouched dessert in her hands. "Okay, so aren't you gonna eat that?" she questions, a hint of suspicion entering her voice.

Catra makes a small, choked sound at the back of her throat. "Yeah." She makes no move to open the wrapper.

After a few moments of sitting there in silence, Adora's eyes narrow with concern, and she leans forward to rest a gentle hand on the other girl's knee.

"Catra, is something wrong?"

Roughly, Catra shrugs away from her touch. "What," she spits angrily, "no! I'm fine! It's not like the entire team is depending on me and I've only got three chances not to fuck everything up for them." 

Adora softens all at once.

"Hey - you've got this," she assures, "and even if you don't, it's okay!" She shakes Catra's shoulders lightly. "None of us are going to blame you for messing up a pitch. God knows we all make the same stupid mistakes. Whether we win or lose, we do it as a team, understand?"

The edge of Catra's mouth twitches up a little, and her fidgeting hands relax. "Yeah, alright."

Placing a hand on the ground for leverage, Adora gets to her feet and brushes the dust off her uniform.

"I'd better get back to the old _bird cage_ ," she remarks, "we'll probably be starting again in a minute." She nudges Catra with the toe of one of her cleats. "Hurry up and eat that before it melts, okay?"

"Sure."

She waits, colorful eyes flicking around intently, until Adora has disappeared entirely from view, then leans over and tosses the bar into a nearby garbage can. Hurriedly, she grabs her glove back up again to continue running through her drills.

* * *

 Meanwhile, Bow watches quietly from the dugout, leaning on the outside of the wire wall that faces home plate. As Adora passes him by, he catches a clear glimpse of Catra throwing away one of the vanilla ice-cream sandwiches that he'd just lugged over here in a heavy cooler, and he crosses his arms roughly, annoyed with her.  _I hope she knows I paid a whole three dollars for those._

Soon, though, his frustration mixes with a tinge of worry as he begins to realize something that he'd never really stopped to think about before.

_This isn't the first time I've seen Catra do that._

 And all at once, he's taken aback by a flood of latent memories - little, insignificant moments in time that he'd brushed away like sand, never recognizing any meaning in them until just now. 

One of them is louder than the others.

_It's sophomore year, right after the new varsity softball players' first game of the season, and they've lost by miles - been crushed like caterpillars under the heels of a stronger, more experienced team. They're gathered in one of the Brightmoon dugouts, staring dejectedly at the floor, or kicking at the walls halfheartedly with their spiked cleats. The benches are spread with a couple boxes of pizza and cans of Coke, and most of the kids are chewing miserably, reminding Bow of the common expression "throwing a pity party."_

_Catra, their aspiring pitcher (positions hadn't been finalized yet), is sitting alone against the back wall, idly dropping her ball onto the ground and picking it up again. She looks up, startled, when Bow moves to sit beside her, handing her a slice of pepperoni pizza on a paper plate with a friendly smile._

_Hesitantly, she accepts it, and Bow takes the opportunity to start up a conversation._

_"Hey, you were really good today! You've sure got a lot of power in those toothpick arms of yours."_

_Catra starts to crinkle her eyebrows, then stops, and smiles a little. "Thanks, I guess."_

_Bow watches her carefully peel off a slice of pepperoni and place it on the side of her plate. "So," he continues, "have you gotten the chance to meet everyone on the team yet?"_

_Slowly, she lifts the pizza to her mouth, gingerly taking a small bite off the end, and then sets it down again to answer his question. "Not really. But I already knew Adora, Lonnie, Rogelio, and Kyle. We, um, played in the same YMCA league when we were kids," she explains with a wave of her hand._

_"Really?" Bow demands excitedly. "That's so cool! Adora is one of my best friends." He points to another girl, who's standing on the opposite side of the room, chatting with a tall boy whose mop of bright green hair is pulled back into a curly bun at the base of his neck. "That's Glimmer over there, talking to Rogelio. She's my other best friend - we've known each other since we were five years old..."_

_He rambles on, practically sharing his life story, and Catra listens, until the coach eventually calls him over to discuss his batting technique._

_As Bow is tuning out his third lecture that week about how to properly grip the bat for increased stamina (apply pressure with the fingers, not the palms), he notices out of the corner of his eye that Catra has gotten up. She's gathering her bags, packing up her helmet and glove, and as she heads for the door, Bow sees her abandon the slice of pizza on the edge of one of the benches._

_He doesn't think much of it - he supposes she must not have been hungry._

But now, Bow begins to regard the memory in a new light as he stands there, puzzling over the strangeness of it all. Now that he's really considering it, he's almost sure that he's hardly ever seen Catra eat much of anything. A couple bites of her school lunch, maybe; a bag of sliced carrots or cucumber here and there...but never much beyond those little things. 

An awful, growing feeling of guilt starts to come over him, and he swiftly moves from the wall, scouring the area for Adora's trademark blonde ponytail. 

_How could I not have noticed this before? I have to tell Adora, she'll know what to do - if Catra really hasn't been eating well, she shouldn't be playing-_

Abruptly, the shrill screech of the referee's whistle interrupts Bow's train of thought, announcing to both teams that it's time to resume their positions for the second half. He looks hastily again for Adora, but it's too late - she's already running to take her place in the outfield. As she passes by the pitching mound, Bow can see her stop to place her hands on Catra's shoulders, giving her some last-minute words of encouragement that he can't hear. 

With a sigh of frustration, he starts off to join them, the coach signaling for him to cover second base as he jogs past. The Horde players are still huddled together, whispering to each other and shooting furtive glances at their opponents' lineup. Scorpia is drawing something indistinguishable on a small whiteboard that she's holding up for her team to see, and Bow can just make out the outline of a softball field, with arrows pointing in all directions and what looks like strategic notes scribbled in the margins. The others are nodding intently, their faces grave and serious as they listen to her with their full attention.

He takes a deep, slow breath to calm his nerves. 

_They must be planning a super complex and skillful play. I've gotta be on top of my game.._

* * *

 

Catra squints and shields her eyes from the glaring sun that's nearly blinding her from behind home plate, pulling the brim of her cap down farther to block some of it out. It's the end of the last inning, and Brightmoon is up by one, courtesy of Adora. She can practically  _taste_ the tension in the air as she stares at the Horde batter in front of her, trying to map out his weak spots in the three seconds she's got left before play resumes. 

The whistle sounds again, and suddenly her teammates are  _screaming,_ throwing everything they've got into cheering for her at the top of their voices.

"Come on, Catra!"

"You've got it!"

"Straight to the glove!"

"Take your time!"

 _"Échale ganas,_  Catra!"shouts Rogelio from underneath his catcher's mask.

And she listens. 

The first pitch is like a rocket, snapping out of her hands and touching down into Rogelio's glove faster than you could say 'softball' twice. The hitter doesn't even have time to blink, and as soon as he realizes what's happened, he's scowling at her through his helmet, his grip tightening on his bat.

The referee holds up one finger.

Catra's mind is racing, and she tries quickly to decide on her next move. Miraculously, her opponent hadn't been ready, but now he would be expecting another fastball. 

_I have to switch it up._

She goes for a curveball next, whirling the pitch out to the batter's left in a sharp hook, but it proves to be too predictable, and he swings firmly, knocking the ball off with a metallic  _clang_ as it makes contact.

It soars to right field, and he speeds away, making a beeline for home plate, but Lonnie is already one step ahead. She tears across the dirt, snatching the ball from the air and sending it hurtling to second base with a powerful throw. It lands short, though, and Bow has to collect it from the ground. He manages to tag the runner with his glove a second before he clears the base, and Brightmoon explodes into cheers once again, pumping their fists in the air and yelling Bow's name along with shouts of congratulation.

The next Horde batter is easy - she pops Catra's flip-change pitch into a high, sailing arc into center field, and Perfuma only has to jog lightly backwards for a few steps to catch it. Catra's grinning from ear to ear now, giddy from pride and praise and anticipation, her once-tight ponytail now hanging loosely at the nape of her neck.

 _We're going to win,_ she tells herself,  _there's only one out left and the fielders are playing better than they've done all season._ She steps back onto the pitching mound, smirking, eyes glinting with fiery passion, ready to finally finish what she'd started.

The whistle blows.

The field falls silent.

Catra can hear own her heart pulsing in her chest. She can hear the gentle whirl of the steady breeze as it ruffles her hair, and the grinding of cleats into the dirt as the players crouch, fixating themselves entirely on the game and _nothing but the game._ She can hear the quiet rustle of the fabric on her shirtsleeves as she pulls her arm back, preparing to give the Horde the show of a lifetime - no, a century, an  _eternity-_

But then, suddenly, she can't.

She hears nothing at all.

The ball flies, automated, from her hands, but she doesn't see it reach home plate.

Without warning, Catra's vision fades almost to black, and she crumples to her knees there in the middle of the field, her head spinning uncontrollably as she heaves for breath. 

She doesn't see her coach gesturing frantically to pause the game; she doesn't really see her teammates dropping their stances and running to help her to her feet.

She doesn't see Adora still standing behind first base, watching, frozen in one spot, a heavy realization spreading like deadly wildfire across her soft face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHHAHAHA UM sorry guys, i had to do it to u
> 
> echale ganas = go for it/ give it your best
> 
> lmao update: so i tried to stand up after finishing writing this and my legs 100% pulled a catra


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hshshsgn sorry this took so long! hope u enjoy!!
> 
> (tw for explicit mentions of catra's daily calorie intake, if u have an ed and that bothers u pls dont hesitate to let me know and i can upload an alternate version with that information removed)

Adora paces from wall to wall in the narrow hallway in front of the athletic trainers' clinic, running her calloused hands through her hair and biting the skin on her lower lip as she waits impatiently for the college intern who's managing today to let her inside. She'd walked Catra there per the coach's instructions, the other girl leaning on her shoulder the whole way, legs shaking, her left arm wrapped around Adora's neck for support. 

  _T_ _ell them to get her an ice pack to put on her head,_  he'd ordered, with urgency in his voice, _and_ _have her drink at least eight ounces of cool fluids - this is looking to me like a classic case of heat exhaustion. She should be fine if she rests and cools down for about half an hour._

Adora wants to believe him more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life. She wants Catra to be okay so badly - wants her to dramatically fling open the door and waltz out of there, pressing a bag of ice to her flushed forehead, and start cracking jokes about how the sun was out to get her because she'd been shining so bright on the field today that it got jealous of the competition. And then Adora would agree wholeheartedly, and they'd be able to make their way back to the arena just in time to watch their teammates finish out the game, pulling Brightmoon to victory.

But she doesn't, and the longer Adora waits, the slower the minutes seem to tick by.

It's been well over half an hour when the lock finally clicks open, and she snaps her eyes up from the floor in an instant, expression tainted with dismay. The boy pokes his head out, spotting her, and hastily waves her inside. "You're good to come in now." 

He steps to the side and pulls back the door so Adora can enter, turning back to close it behind him as she wrinkles her nose, coughing a little at the overpowering scent of rubbing alcohol.

Catra is stretched out on one of the makeshift beds that lean up against the wall, a cold compress wrapped in a blue towel tied messily around her head. She's fidgeting idly with a strand of hair that's escaped from her ponytail, engaged in casual conversation with a redheaded girl from a different team sitting a few feet away, whose swollen ankle is submerged entirely in a metal pail of ice water. The girl is complaining angrily, her face burning with visible rage, while Catra listens attentively, nodding her head sympathetically every once in a while like she's a therapist in a little office.

" - and I'm telling you, she  _tripped_ me; just stuck out her leg and pushed my foot back while I was going top speed towards third base! What kind of low-down, dirty, rotten person - and the ref didn't even  _call_ it..."

"Wow. What an asshole," Catra agrees, her voice still wavering slightly from fatigue. As soon as she notices Adora standing there, she pushes herself weakly into an upright position and gestures urgently for her to come over.

"Oh, thank  _God._ I've been lying on this  _stupid_   _bed_ for a zillion years, and this idiot here," - she jabs a finger at the intern - "won't let me leave, because for some reason, he thinks I need to drink Gatorade."

"You do need to drink Gatorade," he cuts in, irritated.

Catra ignores him. "So, did we win?" she demands anxiously, mismatched eyes scanning her girlfriend's expression for any telltale emotions.

Adora is incredulous.

"Are you kidding me? You almost passed out less than an hour ago, and you're asking me if we  _won_?"

"Uh, yes?" she deadpans, clearly unconcerned with anything unrelated to softball.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Adora takes a seat beside her and crosses her arms, glaring into Catra's face with her best intimidating look.

"I don't know yet. Bow and Glimmer are going to update us as soon as the game is over. Now, why the hell won't you drink Gatorade?"

"Because she's a stubborn little kid," grumbles the boy, who's now struggling in vain to sort through a tangled heap of bandages and find the right kind of wrap for the other patient's ankle. "I hate this dumb job."

"Oh, you are not even  _two_ years older than me, you dipshit-"

"Catra," Adora whispers harshly, gritting her teeth, "would you please  _not_ call the people who are literally in charge of your healthcare at the moment 'dipshits?'"

She scoffs. "Sure. I've got better words."

"Catra!"

"Ugh," she groans, aggravated, and flops heavily back onto her pillow in surrender. "Fine."

Eventually, the intern returns with a pen, clipboard, and a cold bottle of water, giving Catra a quick once-over of inspection. He checks her vital signs manually, and scribbles something down on his paper before handing her the bottle along with a yellow return slip.

"Okay, here's the deal. Drink this, at least, and then you can go. But only because you're getting on my last remaining nerve - and Amanda's foot doesn't look like it's going down in swelling at all, " he adds, nodding over at the redhead, whose formerly livid expression is now contorted in pain. 

Catra frowns, but gulps down the water anyway and moves slowly to stand up, grabbing Adora's arm again to steady herself. "Great. Thanks," she tells him, without a hint of gratitude in her voice. "I'm feeling just fine now - wonderful, actually. Terrific. Couldn't be better. Come on, Adora, let's ditch this popsicle stand."

Adora drags her out of the clinic, shooting the boy an apologetic glance over her her shoulder right before she closes the door.

As soon as they're out of view, Catra immediately leans more of her weight onto Adora, causing her to stumble a little before she catches her balance and wraps a hand around Catra's waist to better hold her up.

"Whoa, be careful," she warns, eyes tapering with fresh worry.

"Sorry," the other girl explains, moving with difficulty towards the back staircase that leads down to the arena, "let's just say that I would really not be winning gold in the Standing-Up Olympics right now." 

At the end of the hall, they stop in front of the large double doors that open to the stairs, and Adora glances pointedly at Catra, who is currently occupying both of her hands. 

Quickly, she shrugs Adora's arm off and straightens up, fighting her wobbly legs. "It's fine. I can walk by myself now."

"Are you sure?"

Catra nods, gesturing for her to push open the doors. "Yeah, go ahead."

They head down the first flight, side by side, and as they reach the landing at the bottom, Adora gathers all her courage and opens her mouth to say something like  _hey, can we talk for a minute_  or  _I need to know if everything's okay with you,_ but she's abruptly cut off before she can get the chance.

Without notice, Catra's knees seem to give out again, and she stops short where she is, sliding to the floor with one hand still holding the metal rail that runs along the side of the wall. Her breathing is heavy and broken once more, and her soft features are twisted with frustration and fury.

Adora hurriedly drops down beside her, rummaging in her backpack to retrieve her own water, and offers it over without another thought. Catra goes through it in a second, but when she brings the plastic bottle away from her face, Adora can see the hot tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

She moves to replace her arm on her shoulder, but Catra pulls away instead, crushing the empty water bottle in her clenching fists. She turns and hurls it wrathfully at the opposite wall with a hoarse, angry scream that makes Adora flinch away in startled surprise. 

Weakly, Catra lets her head fall to her hands in surrender.

" _Shit,_ " she rasps, her voice choked with bitter sobs, "fuck this fucking shit-"

And suddenly, Adora has had enough.

 _I'm done,_ she thinks,  _I'm sick and tired of watching you be sick and tired and not knowing how to fix it and I am just so, so fucking done._

She grabs Catra by the shoulders, impulsively giving her a rough shake, and then winces with regret as she realizes that it probably hadn't helped her situation. Nonetheless, she presses on.

"Alright - that's it; you are going to tell me what's going on with you  _right now,_ and don't try to give me any of that heat exhaustion bullshit, because if that was the entire problem you'd have been over it in thirty minutes, and for God's sake, Catra, you are  _scaring_ me!" Her words are harsh, but they don't fit with her troubled, shaky tone.

Her girlfriend lifts her head and stares back blankly, bits of loose hair plastered to her face like wet leaves on the sidewalk after a heavy rain. Then she sighs, leaning into Adora again, looking down at her shoes as she tries to form a reply.

"I'm really sorry. That was uncalled for. I'll go get your water bottle."

"I don't care about the goddamn water bottle, Catra."

Catra seems to understand, and she goes quiet for a moment, words hesitating on her lips.

"Okay."

Adora frowns. "What?"

"I said, fine. I'll tell you whatever you want to know. Just..." She pauses again to catch her breath, still clearly exhausted. "I need to ask you for a favor, okay?"

The blonde girl's eyes soften at that, and her demeanor follows suit.

"Yeah. Whatever you need."

Catra's eyes flick around aimlessly, and she rubs hard at the bridge of her nose like it's uncut wood and her fingers are sandpaper.

"Do you think you can get me something to eat?"

 

* * *

 

A little while later, they're sitting at a short round table in the sports complex's cafeteria, a bag full of prepackaged snacks spread out between them, and Catra is unwrapping her second oatmeal bar. She's chewing slowly, mechanically, her head resting on her free hand, which is gripping an available section of her thick hair and pulling it so tightly that Adora thinks it might tear right off.

Gently, she reaches over to move her hand away, threading her own fingers through Catra's in place of the brown curls.

"Hey, don't do that. You'll hurt yourself."

Catra mumbles something sarcastic under her breath that Adora can't hear, but she doesn't try to escape her grasp.

Picking idly at a banana muffin with a plastic fork, Adora waits patiently for her to finish, then looks up and releases Catra's hand. She shifts in her chair, making her posture a little straighter.

"So," she starts, "is now a good time to talk?"

The other girl hesitates, inspecting the remaining contents of the bag before deciding to leave it alone. "I guess so."

"Okay," Adora continues carefully, "then, can I ask you some things?"

"I guess so," she repeats.

"What really happened to you back there?"

Pausing briefly, Catra considers the question. "Suppose I just ran out of energy."

"Yeah, but why?"

For nearly a minute, it's completely silent, and Adora thinks she would need a power saw to cut the cream-thick tension in the air, so she begins to repeat herself.

"But w-"

" _Why?_ Because I haven't eaten more than six hundred calories a day for the past two weeks," Catra snaps, instantly confirming the suspicions that Adora had been praying she'd deny. Her face turns downcast with shame as she realizes the gravity of what she's just admitted.

Adora doesn't know much about calories, but she knows enough to know that six hundred of them is far too little for an entire day's intake, and her thoughts race and whirl as a figurative puzzle starts to fall into place in her mind.

The red notebook. The rows of numbers. The excuses for passing up milkshakes. The way Catra seemed to look a little thinner every time she saw her...

Oh. 

_Oh._

Neither of them speak again for a little while.

Then Adora reaches across the small space to Catra's hair once again, this time to lightly tuck a few strands behind her left ear.

"Hey," she says, voice barely louder than a whisper, "it's okay, you know? I mean, obviously it's not  _okay,_ but...it's okay - really," she finishes lamely, for lack of a better way to express what she means.

And Catra understands, but she shakes her head anyway, chewing on the side of her lip.

"It's not. But, thanks. I guess."

Adora manages a small smile. "I guess you're welcome." She takes a moment to think, then moves her hand back to the table from the spot where it had still been lingering, tangled in Catra's gentle curls. "Is there anything I can do to help?

She shrugs. "Maybe. Not really."

"Is it getting worse?"

That hits Catra hard, and she fixes her gaze down onto the tiled floor.

"It has been."

Frowning, Adora hesitates, then starts again. 

"Do you wanna tell me about it?"

Catra is rolling her empty purple wrapper absentmindedly into a crumpled ball between her fingers. "Do I have to?"

"Of course not."

"Then, no," she affirms stiffly, "no, I do not."

"That's okay."

She unfurls the wrapper and begins rolling it again, her eyes narrowed in a conflicted expression as if she's debating over her next words.

"I just - I don't know what I'm going to do, you know? Like, I used to have it completely under control, and now....well, now it's getting harder and harder just to get in enough food to function-"

 _You aren't exactly functioning,_ Adora wants to point out, but thinks better of it, just as their conversation is interrupted by the high-pitched jingle of her phone's ringtone.

Catra snatches it up quickly, a hint of a smile returning to her face as she reads the caller ID. She slides the phone back across the table and scoots her chair over anxiously so that it's closer to Adora's.

"Look, it's Bow! Quick, hurry, answer it," she urges, "he's probably got news about the game!"

Adora accepts the call and puts Bow on speaker, setting her phone down to grab Catra's hand tightly in nervous anticipation.

"Hey, Bow," she says hurriedly, crossing her fingers together like her life depends on it, "what's the verdict?"

"Well..."

Her friend pauses for dramatic effect, and both girls can practically hear his smugness radiating through the line. "You know how there's one team that moves on to the state finals?"

"Get to the  _point,_ Bow," Catra snarls through gritted teeth.

"It's _us_!" he shouts gleefully at the top of his lungs, directly into her ear. "We are that team! We're going to the finals!"

An incredulous grin seeps through Adora's face, loosening the wrinkled lines of worry in her eyebrows and forehead and melting them away.

"Oh, my God," she breathes, meeting her girlfriend's eyes with giddy excitement.

"Yes!" Catra practically screams, and pounds her fists into the air, the previous gloom forgotten. This earns her an irritated glare from a few people sitting at the tables nearby, but neither of them could care less.

"How did it go down after we left?" Adora demands, still a little shaken. "Tell us everything!"

"Well," Bow begins, "since the Horde player was able to hit Catra's pitch before they called for a time out, the referee discounted that segment of the game, and he got one more chance at bat when we picked up again." He pauses for a minute to recall what had happened. "So, basically, he hit it straight into center again, and he made it all the way to third base. We thought we were done for!"

"But what about after that?" Catra interjects impatiently.

"I'm getting there! Anyway, by this point the next batter was up, she already had two strikes, and we were all kind of walking on eggshells because now it could go either way, right? So then, out of nowhere, she makes this amazing hit - it was so fast, you couldn't even see what direction it went, and we were all like  _oh no, oh no, we're doomed,_ but  _then-_ " He stops to take a breath. "Then, it stopped, and we couldn't see what was going on, and then we noticed that Kyle had run out towards left field and fallen down, and he was groaning and holding his scraped knee like a little kid, but when Mermista came to yell at him to get up and stop being a crybaby - he held up his glove...and the ball was inside it; he was holding the ball, and it had never touched the ground!"

"Holy shit," murmurs Catra in disbelief, "way to go,  _Kyle._ "

Adora shakes her head. "I never would have thought he had it in him."

Bow laughs. "We're actually showering him with praise and gift-shop bubble gum right now. You'd better hurry up if you want to join us before the bus leaves! Coach is taking us out for pizza to celebrate." Then, he stops, remembering why his friends had left early. "Catra, are you feeling better now? I can always come meet you guys halfway."

"I'm fine," Catra brushes him off with a wave of her hand. "We'll be down in a minute."

As they get up from their chairs and begin the walk back to the front of the complex, Adora's arm hovers instinctively behind Catra, just to be prepared if she happens to lose her balance again. But the other girl seems to be moving normally now, so she lets herself relax a little, zoning out into her thoughts as Catra chatters incessantly beside her, complaining about how she'd missed out on seeing the priceless looks on the Horde's faces when they realized they'd just been beaten by a five-foot-three freshman who looked like he belonged in McDonald's ordering a Happy Meal.

 _I never got to finish talking to her,_ she realizes,  _and I haven't even thought about what to do. I can't just keep this to myself, can I? That wouldn't be right._

Before she has enough time to consider this, though, the other half of Adora's brain brings another persistent, nagging feeling to the surface.

_But it also wouldn't be right to betray her trust. Would it?_

Eventually shaking the conflicting thoughts from her mind, Adora tries again to fix her attention on what Catra's saying. But for some reason, it's getting harder and harder to focus on softball, and her elation over winning the playoffs isn't lasting quite as long as she'd expected the many times she'd dreamt about it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update: yall this is the longest piece of shit i have EVER written, wtf. if this was an mla format essay it would be 70 pages. whaaaaaaaaat the Actual heck. i have trouble writing like 3 pages for school in 2 weeks?????????


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof guys im sorry this took so long!! ive been busy with lots of stuff and have like 0 energy to write atm. pls enjoy though!

 

Late that evening, just as the sun is going down and highlighting the tops of the trees with deep oranges and reds and yellows, Adora sits on the sidewalk in front of the school, her head resting on her hands, her thoughts wandering like the flyaway tufts of dandelion that the warm evening wind is carrying gently through the air. Catra's beside her, hunched over her sketchbook, and she hums a soft tune as she works away at the beginnings of a new piece of art. It's peaceful, and calm, and they're both more than happy to sit in companionable silence after an exhausting day, waiting for it to be seven o'clock - when the city bus will pull up at the stop a few feet away from them, and Adora will go home.

The few minutes of welcome quiet end when Adora suddenly turns to Catra, pulling herself from her daydreams, and reaches over to tap her lightly on the shoulder. She looks up from her drawing, surprised, then sets her charcoal pencil down on the asphalt in front of her shoes to give Adora her full attention. "What's up?"

She hesitates for a moment, trying to choose her words carefully.

"Um....do you have to be at home tonight?"

Catra raises an eyebrow. "I mean, I guess not - it's not like anyone there really cares where I go as long as I show up again sometime. Why?"

"Come with me," Adora pleads, "we haven't had a _sleepover_ in so long." She tries in vain to hide the embarrassment that seeps through the edges of her smile.

"How old are you," the other girl snickers, "twelve?" But she's grinning right back, and it makes her eyes shine so brightly that Adora thinks they put the glowing gold sunset to shame.

It only lasts for a second, though - soon the light drains from her sun-kissed face, and she turns her gaze to the ground again, biting her lower lip.

"I don't want to go to your house."

"Oh." Adora says quickly, feeling a little hurt. "That's okay. Why not?"

"Your parents hate me," Catra mumbles, poking at an unmoving green bug on the sidewalk with the blunt end of her pencil. It jolts into action, skittering away immediately upon being touched.

"Of course they don't hate you!" Adora protests. "It's just the way they are. They complain about all of my friends," she adds after a short pause.

Catra lifts her head again, meeting Adora's eyes with a trace of sadness in her gaze. "Yeah...but I'm not just your friend, though."

_Oh._

"I'm sorry," Adora tells her softly. "If there was anything I could do to change their minds, I'd do it. But, I just...I'm not ready to tell them yet. I don't know when I will be. I'm scared that - that I won't be safe," she admits, sighing with a shake of her head.

Catra's face floods with anger. "But you shouldn't have to worry about that!" she explodes, the tips of her ears flushing bright red. "You're only seventeen - it's not  _fair_ _!_ "

"Yeah," Adora agrees, surprising herself, "it's not."

"Fuck your parents." Catra declares firmly.

"Yeah," she repeats, "fuck them." It's a strangely gratifying thing to say out loud.

Suddenly, Catra's eyes widen, and her anger slowly fades away, a sly grin beginning to spread across her features. "Hey, Adora. I've got an  _idea._ "

"Oh, no. What is it?"

Catra turns towards her, grabbing her shoulders, her movements animated with excitement. "Okay, hear me out. What if we have our sleepover, but we don't go home at all?"

Adora frowns. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm saying, you tell your parents you're spending the night at my house, and I'll tell mine that I'm going to yours. Then, we grab a fuck-ton of pillows and blankets and shit, get in my car, and drive out into the middle of nowhere where we can see the stars without all these city lights ruining the view." She gives Adora an expectant look.

"Oh, my God," Adora replies, "that's the dumbest idea you've ever had." Then, she smiles, her eyes glinting, mirroring Catra's expression. "Let's do it."

"Yes!" Catra exclaims, pumping a fist. "I knew you'd say that."

"No, you didn't."

"I totally did!"

"You did  _not,_ Catra."

"Yes, I did..."

 

* * *

 

 

Two hours later, they're trudging up the side of a grassy hill, lugging armfuls of blankets to the top, which Adora had insisted on as a prime stargazing location. Catra's dragging her feet, complaining loudly to Adora and the local population of crickets.

"Nobody told me this idea would involve so much  _walking,_ " she grumbles, glaring ahead at nothing in particular.

Adora rolls her eyes. "This was your idea, Catra."

"That's no excuse! You've known me for ten years - you should have learned by now not to listen to anything I say!"

Their bickering tapers off linearly with the steepness of the hill, and stops altogether as they finally reach the highest point, the ground flattening all at once beneath their feet.

"Wow," Catra breathes, because Adora was right - the view from here was definitely worth the walk. They'd driven a mile off the road and parked the car in open field, so there's nothing as far as she can see but tall grass and the occasional patch of tiny white flowers, and the huge expanse that is the night sky hovers over their heads, the stars glittering with a striking clarity that neither of them have ever seen before. 

Adora's sandy-blonde hair, now loose from its ponytail and flowing over her shoulders, is tinted white in the moonlight, and as the night breeze ruffles a couple of strands out of place, Catra can't help but reach over to fix them again, setting her bundle at her feet. Adora turns quickly to face her, smiling with surprise.

"Come on," she says, putting down her own heap of blankets, "help me spread these out."

They work together to place them on the grass, holding the edges as the wind billows them like sails, and covering the ends with pillows so that their makeshift bed won't blow away if the breeze picks up. When they're finished, Adora flops down on her back with a contented sigh, staring in quiet awe at the dazzling spectacle above them. Catra follows after a moment, sitting tentatively down beside her, and rests her arms on her knees, looking up at the sky like it holds all the answers she needs. And,  _hell_ \- for all she knows, it just might.

They stay like that, together in silence, for a long time, and Catra doesn't mind, because she could stare at a blank wall with this girl for hours on end and still never experience a dull moment. It was just the way Adora was - she knew the right time to speak, and the right time not to; she knew exactly when to laugh, and when to cry, and how to make Catra forget that anything else existed in the world except for her, and Adora, and the stars, and that was exactly the way she wanted it.

Adora stirs, turning her head a little to the side, and Catra looks down at her; she's smiling a little, and there's a faraway look in her eyes as she tugs on the end of Catra's sweater, gesturing for her to lie down as well. She does, and Adora rolls all the way onto her side, putting one arm under her head for support. They're face-to-face now, close enough that their free hands nearly touch, and they can hear each other's gentle breathing in the nearly-soundless air.

Of course, Adora speaks first. 

"Hey, Catra."

"What?"

She shifts so that her elbow rests on the ground, holding her head up in her open palm. "Do you think we're alone out here?"

"I don't see anyone."

"No, no," Adora says hastily, "I mean, do you think we're alone in the universe?"

Catra raises an eyebrow. "Are you asking me if I believe in  _aliens?_ "

"Well, it sounds kind of dumb when you put it like that," Adora grumbles.

 Laughing airily, Catra shoots her a teasing grin. "You mean, like Klingons?"

"No-"

"Vulcans?"

" _No-_ "

"Ewoks?"

"Catra, stop it-"

"Don't tell me. Jar Jar Binks."

"Catra!"

"Okay, okay," she concedes, then pauses to consider her real answer. "I don't know - I guess it would be pretty scary if we really were the only ones. Just think about it; forty-three billion light years in every direction from here to the edges of the universe that we know, and Earth is just a pinprick inside a pinprick inside a pinprick - a tiny little nothing planet where tiny little people walk around believing that their lives are important." She shivers a little at the thought.

Adora frowns, picking at a loose thread on the blanket underneath her. "But we  _are_ important."

"Not if there's nobody out there to remember us."

"That's okay." Adora decides. "I'll remember you."

Catra smiles, a good kind of pain stabbing through her chest as she meets Adora's eyes. "Let's remember each other."

"Okay - let's."

Rolling over onto her back again, Adora gazes upwards, pretending to search for constellations. "Hey, Catra," she starts again.

"Yeah?"

She draws in a deep breath. "Tell me something you've never said to anyone before."

Catra's own breath catches, and she goes silent, trying to think of the right thing to say. Adora makes it seem so easy.

"Once," she begins, "when I had - I mean, when I  _was_ \- five years old, I cut up all the curtains in my house and tried to make dresses out of them. I wasn't allowed to have scissors for months after that."

Adora breaks out in a resounding laugh, and it must be contagious, because soon enough, Catra's laughing with her, the noise ringing as clearly as a bell through the empty fields.

"Okay," Catra says as soon as she can speak again, "now, your turn."

Adora doesn't say anything for a while; then, she pushes her bangs away from her face and moves back to face Catra. "Can I say something more serious?"

"Sure, you can."

She looks off to the side, and Catra follows with her eyes, but there's nothing there to be seen.

"It's kind of stupid," Adora admits, still staring intently into the darkness. 

"That doesn't matter. I say stupid things to you all the time."

Adora sighs. "You can't laugh at me."

"I won't laugh at you."

Adora fidgets with the loose string again, pulling it out farther and farther. "Sometimes I'm not sure if I'm living my own life or not."

The other girl frowns, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean - I spend so much time worrying about making everyone else approve of me that I don't even know what I really want for myself."

And Catra understands, but she still can't find the right words to say. Nonetheless, she tries her best.

"Well, what makes you happy?"

"I don't know."

"Does softball make you happy?"

"I don't know. How do you tell?"

Catra considers. "Well - I guess you know something makes you happy if you want to do it just because you like it. Like, I know that art makes me happy because I spend time on it, even though I don't have to."

"Then, I guess that  _playing_ softball makes me happy. But I can't stand all the pressure that comes with it - it just takes all the fun out of the game. You know?"

"Yeah," she agrees, "it makes you hate something that you used to love."

"Yeah."

It's quiet again for a while, and then suddenly Adora speaks again, her voice clouded with something Catra doesn't recognize.

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"What do you want for yourself?"

It's a hard question, and Catra has to think about it for a minute before she finds a response.

"I guess I want to be happy."

Adora pauses. 

"Catra, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Does it make you happy?"

Catra stops, blood freezing in her veins. "What?"

"Being sick," Adora clarifies, her tone gentle, free of malice. "Does it make you happy?"

It's not a joke, or a condescending rhetorical question, or a cruel jab - it's entirely genuine, and Catra knows that she won't be judged, no matter how she answers.

"No," she replies quietly, "it doesn't."

"Then, why-" Adora stops herself quickly, realizing she's about to overstep. " _Shit._  I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay." Catra interjects. "If I didn't have to do it, I wouldn't."

And for once, Adora's the one who doesn't know what to say. But nonetheless, she tries her best.

"Catra?"

"Yeah?"

"I know it's not easy to get better. And whatever you decide to do, I'll be here for you." She takes a deep breath to calm down before continuing. "But I really, really, think you should give it a shot." 

She looks back at Catra nervously, praying that she won't be mad.

Catra's face is a whirl of emotions, none of them identifiable, and Adora is afraid that she'd gone too far, until finally, she answers, sitting back up abruptly as she starts to talk.

"I'll think," - she coughs - "I'll  _think about_ thinking about it."

And for now, that's enough. 

Adora sits up as well, reaching out to place a hand on Catra's arm. "Hey," she smiles.

"Hi."

"Want to know what I think?"

"Sure."

"I think that's enough talking for one night," she affirms, moving her hand to swipe a piece of grass away from Catra's cheek with her thumb.

"I think so too," Catra agrees.

Relieved, Adora leans forward until their foreheads touch, and they stay that way for a moment, closing their eyes, until eventually Catra moves a little, brushing her lips against Adora's in a particularly soft kiss, sort of like she's afraid that any more force will knock her over.

The stars watch over them until they fall asleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i'm not sure whether i want to continue with this story/where i would go with it if i did continue, so i'm going to put it on hold for right now because i don't have a lot of energy to write. but thank you all for reading and commenting, i really appreciate it!! if you have any good ideas or advice about how the story could potentially continue, please let me know!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY remember the 80 separate times i said i wasn't gonna update this story anymore??? well turns out i lied!!
> 
> reasons i have decided to write more:  
> \- if im stuck in treatment so is catra damn it  
> \- i love double trouble and they needed to be in this story  
> \- good way to procrastinate on homework  
> \- season 4 gave me FEELINGS
> 
> anyway expect anywhere from 0 to 45838 more sporadically timed updates in the near and distant future. so sorry for 94 year hiatus. will happen again.
> 
> (spanish at the end like usual)

Catra sits rigidly on the edge of her smooth plastic chair, feet drumming anxiously against the carpeted floor of the Dayroom as she tries not to glance back at the clock on the wall for at least thirty more seconds. Time usually goes faster when you're not watching it tick by.

The thin rubber tube that runs down her throat tickles at the back of her nose, and she sniffs and swallows a couple times in a halfhearted attempt to relieve the itching. She idly lifts a hand to touch the spot where it's taped securely to the side of her cheek. _Adora doesn't know about this one yet. That'll be a fun conversation._

There's a loud groan from the sofa to her left, and Catra looks over to see a shifting, formless lump of blankets, from which protrudes a mess of blonde hair and a single, green khaki-clad leg that's dangling over one of the armrests. 

"This is simply outrageous," says the lump, poking one eye out of their bundle to make it clear that they're addressing Catra, "don't you think, darling? I mean - I've got an _extremely important_ meeting that my presence is _absolutely mandatory_ at in exactly forty-seven minutes from right now, _and_ whose location is exactly forty-five minutes from here, and they still won't let me leave for another six minutes. I've got half a mind to waltz up right this second and ask who's running this place-"

Catra rolls her eyes and shoves the lump's foot roughly out of her face. "Oh, shut up, Double Trouble; charades night with your idiotic drama club friends is not the same thing as an important meeting, and I'm pretty sure ten shots of Kentucky bourbon does _not_ meet meal plan."

The lump unfurls suddenly, flinging their blankets aside with theatrical flair and sitting up straight against the soft pink cushions. Double Trouble turns to face her, head resting in their gloved hands as they lean over, treating her to an awfully snide grin. With a coy laugh, they jab a finger into the tip of her nose, not too gently.

"It does if I keep it quiet, my dear. But you're one to talk about meeting meal plan, no?"

Glaring daggers, Catra jerks away and crosses her arms tightly across her chest. "Why don't you fuck off, how about that?"

Her friend raises an eyebrow, raising their open palms in a gesture of surrender. "Terribly sorry, darling. I was just trying to have some fun. It's duller than Hemingway around these parts, you know."

Catra huffs. "Whatever." But grudges are short-lived when there's only twelve other people to talk to and five of them already hate her. She reaches for Double's hair and starts making tiny pigtails at the sides of their head. There are only three minutes left now until Adora shows up and she's freed from this utter hellhole for two magnificent, blissful days, and she says as much, yanking a particularly loose strand of the over-conditioned curls a bit too tightly.

Double chuckles, albeit bitterly. "Yes, a hellhole with _extraordinarily_ comfortable couches, and paintings of disgusting rainbows plastered on every wall," they mutter. "Makes me sick."

But their grim face brightens quickly. "Ooooh, look, Catra," they exclaim, eyes darting swiftly to the open doorframe behind their seats. They lift their head from Catra's barrette-covered fingers, craning their long neck to get a better view. "Your hot girlfriend's here. I bet you guys are gonna make out all weekend, right? Must be nice. Unlike you, I have to come back here tomorrow. Like some kind of loser."

Ignoring them, Catra jumps to her feet, swinging a backpack hurriedly over her shoulder. Adora is indeed there, leaning awkwardly against the wall like usual, but she smiles warmly and waves as soon as she meets Catra's gaze. 

"Hi, Double Trouble," she calls amiably to the now re-lumped lump on the sofa. 

"Hello, love," says the lump, loudly. "Thank you so very much for taking the trouble to smuggle marijuana into our lovely facility every weekend. I personally quite appreciate the gesture."

Catra kicks them. Unfortunately, the thick blankets parry the blow. 

"Of course," Adora replies, just as loudly. "I am....uhh, very happy to smuggle marijuana into your facility any day." 

Double winks. "Excellent," they whisper to Catra, "that should get them off my bourbon trail. Have I told you that I simply adore your girlfriend?"

"Have I told you to shut up?"

The lump recedes into complete formlessness. "Every day, darling."

 

* * *

 

Later, they sit in the cab of Adora's rusty pickup, drinking leftover Diet Cokes from the softball cooler and watching the sun go down from the back of an empty parking lot, and Catra feels like she's breathing fresh air for the first time in three weeks. There's nobody here now to watch her, nobody to ask her about her stupid feelings; nobody to make her _eat_. She stretches her legs out, propping her feet up on the dash and closing her eyes for a moment to let the peace and quiet of the evening wash over her in waves. The cool breeze outside blows lightly in through the slotted window, and Catra cracks one eye to watch how it ruffles Adora's hair, but Adora's already looking over at her, a soft smile highlighting the thin dusting of golden freckles across the bridge of her nose. 

She leans down, one hand gripping the opposite headrest, to kiss Catra gently on the cheek, and the tips of her messy French braids (Catra's handiwork) brush the other girl's face as she moves to sit up again.

Catra has other ideas- she takes Adora's hand; cards her fingers through the back of her hair until the braids are undone and pulls her into a proper kiss. She's sitting back against the door now, and Adora presses her farther into it until the window crank pokes into her spine; she cups Catra's chin to pull her closer still. They haven't had the chance to do this for quite a while.

When they finally break apart, though, Adora's face is creased with worry; she leans sideways in her seat, one hand behind her head, the other still grazing lines with the thumb over the side of Catra's face. She brushes over the feeding tube, and Catra looks at the floor, hoping she'll just leave it alone.

No such luck - Adora frowns, but her hand doesn't move from its place on Catra's cheek. She delicately taps the edge of the tape.

"So," she starts, her tone cautious, "this is new."

Catra blinks. "Yeah."

"Does it hurt?"

"Nah. Well, not anymore," she concedes. "But it burned pretty bad when they put it in. They don't give you any anesthetic, you know."

Adora looks horrified. "No!"

"Yes."

She cringes, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "Jeez."

Catra rolls her eyes back in her head until Adora can see the whites. "Oh, my God, why can't you just say 'fuck' like a normal person?"

"Because I don't want to? I didn't know it was a _crime_ not to swear every other word, Catra."

"Oh. Well, now you know."

"You're insufferable," Adora groans, "and it's getting late. My house?" She presses another kiss to Catra's forehead before sitting upright to twist her key in the ignition.

"Your house." Catra confirms, as the engine sputters to life. It occurs to her then that she hasn't been home in a long time, and in a fleeting thought, she wonders if anyone has noticed.

 

* * *

 

Adora's parents are away for work, but everything in the house still _looks_ like them, and Catra doesn't like it in the slightest. She's used to water-stained walls covered in bold, yet unappealing art pieces, and a kitchen that smells perpetually of cumin and the smoke from an unattended stove. Although her own family is just as busy, they are anything but put-together, and it shows plainly in the things they've surrounded themselves with. But that's what Catra knows, and though she won't admit it, the chaos is comforting. The longer she stares at these pristine countertops; the color-coded bookshelves; the never-used sofa pillows with all their feathers still intact - the more her head starts to spin.

So she averts her gaze, shaking off her thoughts in favor of focusing on the task at hand - watching her cup of hot water swirl around in the shiny microwave until it's ready for its bag of cinnamon tea. She retrieves a shiny spoon from a drawer with a shiny handle and presses the tea bag down in the water to let it steep, then grabs the mug along with a coaster to join Adora in the living room. Her sock-padded footsteps echo down the hallway, and she can hear Adora laughing with someone on the phone as she approaches. 

"Yeah, and then, I told her that she didn't know what she was talking about, and that Swift Wind was a perfectly good name for a dog! It serves her right, anyway, I bet she'd name her dog something weird, like Biscuit or Elton John..."

As soon as Catra moves into view, Adora grins, waving her over with a hurried shake of her hand.

"Glimmer! Say 'hi' to Catra!"

She flips the phone around, revealing a FaceTime call with their friend, whose hair is wrapped up in a purple bath towel. She'd been applying a coat of nail polish, but she stops short upon seeing Catra and huffs loudly, rolling her eyes.

"Hey, Catra," she greets monotonously, her expression radiating boredom. "What's in your face?"

"Hey,  _chispitas,_ " Catra retorts, not missing a beat. "What's up your ass?"

"Your mom's dick." says Glimmer, smiling sweetly. 

Adora quickly takes the phone back, shaking her head and alternating her glare between Catra and the small screen.

"Honestly, you two. Can't you just get along for five minutes without insulting each other?"

"No." Glimmer points out. "Realistically, never."

"I wouldn't get along with her if you offered me ten million dollars, a spot on the Ellen show, and did all of my homework for the rest of my life," Catra adds helpfully.

"God,  _fine,"_ Adora concedes. "Glimmer, I'll talk to you later, okay? Sometime when you and Catra won't explode like antimatter right on contact?"

Glimmer laughs. "Sounds great. I was about to let you go anyway - I promised Bow I'd help him study for our chemistry exam tonight." She clicks the call off, and Adora tosses her phone onto the coffee table, sliding over to make room for Catra on the couch beside her.

She grabs the TV remote as Catra starts to sip her tea, flipping idly through lists of streaming movies that they're not going to watch while she tries to think of something to say. Catching the slight tension, Catra shifts in her seat and fixes her eyes on the screen, pretending to be deeply interested in Because You Added Parks and Rec To Your List. 

Just as Catra's about to ironically suggest The Notebook, Adora breaks the silence first, still browsing Netflix on a loop.

"So - how's it all going?" she asks quietly. "At the center, I mean."

"Oh, terrible," Catra replies immediately. "It's freezing in there, and they don't have any coffee, and Double Trouble has tried to frame me three separate times for replacing the mustard packets with empty condom wrappers, which I _know_ that they do for no reason other than that they are a little bitch-"

" _Catra."_

"It's fine, Adora."

Adora frowns, finally meeting Catra's eyes. "Well, it doesn't seem fine."

"It's _fine!"_  she snaps back angrily, her brow furrowing with annoyance. "Can't you leave it alone?" But her expression softens all at once after Adora's face tinges with hurt, and she looks down, wishing she could just keep her mouth shut. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

The other girl smiles gently; it doesn't make her look happier.

"Baby," she says, like it's Catra's name. "Don't worry." She settles back against the pillows, her head finding a place to rest on Catra's left shoulder. Blonde hair splays out and tickles her skin once again; it itches, but it's a familiar itch and she doesn't say a word.

Adora continues her haphazard clicking for a while before she stops and sighs, burying her face into the crook of Catra's neck and inhaling deeply. She stays there for a moment, then moves slightly to kiss the edge of her jawbone and whisper thinly, "Do you wanna watch The Notebook?"

Catra hums. "I'd rather die."

She can feel Adora smile into her skin. Catra loops an arm across her shoulders to pull her closer; pries the remote from her fingers.

They turn on the movie, but it might as well be background noise. Nobody's watching.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chispitas = sparkles
> 
> (i always rewatch the spanish dub for my fave episodes and catra calls glimmer chispitas which is like. so cute??? had to put it in here)


End file.
